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CHICAGO: 


MORRILL, HIGGINS & CO., PUBLISHERS. 


Idylwild Series. ? ¥ol.l,No.22,Oct.24,1892. Issued Weekly. Annual Subscription, $26.00. 
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>> 


I PREFER TO DICTATE THE LETTER. 



V 



A CARDINAL SIN. 

BT ^ 

EUGENE SUE. 

\i 


TRANSLATED BY 

ALEXINA LORANGER, 


CHICAGO: 

MORRILL, HIGGINS & 


CO. 


I 


1802 


°D 


c 




tx 


COPYRIGHT 

MORRILL, HIGGINS & CO. 
1892 








A Cardinal Sin\ 


chapter i. 

On a beautiful, bright morning of the month 
of May, 18 — , a young girl of eighteen years 
or thereabouts, whose pale, melancholy face 
reflected only too plainly the wretchedness and 
privations of her daily life, was wending her 
way, timidly and with hesitating steps, through 
that populous quarter of the city known as the 
Charmer des Innocents , a dreary spot, princi- 
pally noted for its large number of public 
scribes, who make a precarious living by acting 
as secretaries to the ignorant people of the 
vicinity. 

Two or three times she paused, undecided, 
before an open door; then, thinking perhaps 
that the writer was either too young or unpre- 
possessing, she slowly resumed her search. 
She had reached the last of the row, and was 
on the point of retracing her steps, when her 


8 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


gaze fell on a venerable old man, whose be- 
nign countenance beamed kindly on lier from 
his desk; and without further hesitation she 
resolutely entered the little shop. 

Struck by the touching beauty and modest 
attitude of the young girl, the scribe greeted 
her with paternal affability, and discreetly 
drawing the curtain over the dingy window, 
motioned her to a seat, while he sank back 
into his old leather-covered arm-chair and 
waited for her to speak. 

The girl’s pretty face flushed and she cast 
down her large, blue eyes in embarrassment, 
while a painful silence followed. She was 
evidently agitated by a deep emotion, for her 
breast heaved visibly beneath the worn merino 
shawl she wore over her faded gingham dress, 
and her hands trembled slightly as she folded 
them on her lap. 

“ Why this embarrassment, my dear child? ” 
said the old man kindly. “ Do you wish me to 
draw up a petition, a request, or write a letter?” 

“Yes, monsieur, I want a letter written,” 
she replied in a low, soft voice, her face flush- 
ing still more painfully. 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


9 


“ Can you not write?” 

She shook her head and cast down her eyes 
once more. 

Fearing he had needlessly humiliated his 
client, the old man hastened to add: 

“ Poor child, do you suppose me capable of 
blaming your ignorance ? ” 

“Monsieur! — ” she began in protestation. 

“Ah! believe me,” he interrupted, “ I feel 
a great deal of compassion for persons who, 
having no education, are forced to have re- 
course to men of my profession, to admit them 
into their confidence, and reveal their most 
secret and dearest thoughts ! It is very pain- 
ful, is it not ? ” 

“Yes, indeed, monsieur!” exclaimed the 
girl, touched by these words. “To be obliged 
to address myself to a stranger, to — ” 

Her eyes filled with tears and she paused 
in confusion. 

“ My dear child, pray recover your compos- 
ure,” entreated the scribe. “ You need fear 
neither indiscretion nor ridicule with me. The 
confidence reposed in me by persons whom 
chance or misfortune has deprived of the ben- 


10 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


efits of education, lias always been considered 
as sacred to me.” 

<c 01i! thank you, monsieur; you relieve 
me of half my grief by understanding and 
excusing my embarrassment,” said Mariette, 
gratefully. “Oh! yes,” she went on with a 
sigh, “it is very cruel to know neither how to 
read nor write; but alas! it is not my fault.” 

“Ah! my poor child, like many others who 
come to me, it is the want of opportunity, and 
not the absence of good will, which has de- 
prived you of knowledge. Some are forced to 
assume the care of younger brothers and sis- 
ters while the parents work; others are sent 
out as apprentices at an early age — ” 

“ I was placed as an apprentice at the age 
of nine,” sighed Mariette, “ and until that 
time I was retained at home to care for a little 
brother, who died shortly before my par- 
ents.” 

“Poor child, your story is similar to t'hose 
of your companions that come to me. But 
why did you not try to gain some education 
when you had finished your apprenticeship?” 

“Where would I find the time, monsieur? 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


11 


I work almost day and night to provide for 
my godmother and myself — ” 

“Time, alas! is the bread of the poor!” 
broke in the old man; “they must starve to 
death or live in ignorance.” 

He paused for a moment, then asked with 
renewed interest: “You speak of your god- 
mother; have you no other relative?” 

“No, Monsieur,” replied the girl sadly. 

“ But forgive me, I am taking up your time 
uselessly instead of coming to the purpose of 
my visit.” 

“My time could not be better employed 
than in listening to you, my child; for I am 
sure you are a good and honest girl. Now 
let us see about the letter. Will you merely 
state what you wish to write, or do you prefer 
to dictate to me ? ” 

“I prefer to dictate the letter.” 

“ Very well, I am ready,” declared the old 
man, adjusting his glasses and bending over 
his desk that he might not increase his pretty 
client’s confusion. 

With down-cast eyes, and after a moment of 
hesitation, Mariette began: 


12 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


“Monsieur Louis — ” 

At the name of Louis the old man started, 
but said quietly: “It is written, my child.” 

Notwithstanding her confidence in the old 
man, the girl instinctively shrank from reveal- 
ing her inmost thoughts to a stranger. But 
after a momentary pause, she went on hesita- 
tingly: 

“ I have received no word from you, and I 
am very sad. Yet, you had promised to write 
during your voyage — ” 

“ During your voyage,” repeated the writer, 
who had become suddenly thoughtful. “A 
strange coincidence,” he said to himself, with 
growing anxiety. “ His name is Louis, and 
he is away.” 

“ I hope that you are well,” continued the 
girl, “ and that your silence is not caused by 
illness, for my grief would be doubled.” 

“ To-day is the sixth of May, Monsieur 
Louis — the sixth of May — and I would not 
let the day pass without reminding you of me. 
Perhaps you had the same thought also, and I 
may receive a letter from you when you re- 
ceive this from me, the day after to-morrow. 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


13 


Then I shall know that the delay was not 
caused by illness or forgetfulness, and how 
happy I shall be! I shall therefore await the 
day after to-morrow with much impatience. 
May heaven protect me from disappointment. 
Monsieur Louis — ” 

Mariette stifled a sigh and wiped a tear 
from her pale cheek. 

The features of the writer, who still bent 
low over his desk, were invisible to the young 
girl, and she was unconscious of the expression 
of alarm that had crept over them. Two or 
three times, while writing, he had cast furtive, 
scrutinizing glances at his client; and it was 
evident that his first impulse of sympathetic 
interest was changing to restraint caused by 
serious apprehensions. 

Folding her hands once more on her lap, 
Mariette resumed: 

“ I have nothing new to tell you, Monsieur 
Louis. My godmother is still ill, she suffers 
very much, and the torture she undergoes em- 
bitters her character more and more. That I 
may be near her as much as possible, I now 
work at home instead of going to Mine. Jour- 


14 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


clan. The days seem wretchedly long and sad, 
for working at the shop with my companions 
is much more cheerful, and I can accomplish 
more. I am therefore obliged to stay up very 
late; and I sleep but little, as my godmother 
always suffers more at night and, consequently 
needs inore care. Sometimes I fail to hear her 
first call, I sleep so soundly; then she scolds 
me, which is only natural when she suffers so 
much. 

“I tell you these things to show you that 
my life is not a happy one, and that one word 
of friendship from you would encourage and 
console me for so many sad things. 

“ Farewell, Monsieur Louis. I counted on 
Augustine to write; but she has gone away 
and I am dictating this letter to another per- 
son. Ah! never have I so much regretted my 
inability to read and write as at this mo- 
ment. Farewell, once more, Monsieur Louis ; 
think of me I beg you, for I think of you 
always.” 

“Is this all, my child?” queried the old 
man, after a moment of silence. 

“Yes, monsieur.” 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


15 


“ And wliat name shall I sign ? ” 

“ Mariette.” 

“ Mariette only ? ” 

“ Mariette Moreau, if you please.” 

“ Mariette Moreau,” repeated the old man, 
as he inscribed the name. 

Then folding the letter, he made a Violent 
effort to conceal the secret anguish with which 
he awaited the reply to his question, and asked: 

“To whom shall I address it?” 

“To M. Louis Bichard, at Dreux, to be 
called for.” 

“No more doubt of it,” thought the old 
man, as he prepared to address the letter. 

Had the young girl been less pre-occupied 
with her own thoughts, she could not have 
failed to remark the harsh expression which 
darkened the public writer’s countenance when 
he learned beyond doubt to whom this in- 
nocent missive was addressed. In fact, he 
seemed unable to make up his mind to inscribe 
the name given, for when he had written the 
word “ Monsieur,” he suddenly dropped the 
pen and looked up. 

“ My dear child,” he began, trying to smile 


16 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


with his usual benevolence, that lie might ^not 
betray his resentment and apprehensions, 
“although this is the first time we meet, it 
seems to me that I have inspired confidence in 
you.” 

“ Indeed you have, monsieur,” she assured 
him. “Before entering your house I feared 
I would not find the courage to dictate the 
letter to a total stranger; but you received me 
with so much kindness that my embarrass- 
ment has almost completely melted away.” 

“Why should you have felt any embarrass- 
ment, my child? Even though I were your 
father, I could not find a word to reproach you 
in what you have written to — to M. Louis — 
and if I did not fear to al^use your confidence 
in me I would ask — but no — it would be an 
indiscretion.” 

“What would you ask, monsieur?” 

“ Who this M. Louis Richard is.” 

‘Oh! that’s no secret, I assure you. M. 
Louis is a student; the notary’s office in which 
he is employed is in the same building as the 
shop in which I work. That is how we met, 
just one year ago to-day.” 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


17 


“All! I now understand why you insisted 
on the date of your letter; to-day is the anni- 
versary of your first meeting ! ” 

“Yes, monsieur.” 

“And you love each other. There, don’t 
blush, my child — I suppose you will marry 
some day ? ” 

“ Yes, monsieur.” 

“ Has M. Louis’ family consented to the 
marriage ? ” 

“ M. Louis has no one to consult but his 
father, and we hope he will not refuse his con- 
sent.” 

“ And what kind of a man is he?” 

“The best of fathers — so M. Louis tells 
me — and a man who endures his poverty most 
courageously, although he once had a comfort- 
able home. But M. Louis and his father are 
now as poor as godmother and myself; and 
this is why we expect no opposition to our 
marriage. No difficulty can arise between 
poor people.” 

“It seems to me that your godmother does 
not make life very happy for you, my child.” 

“What will you? it is so natural to be ill- 
2 


18 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


humored when one suffers incessantly and life 
is but a continual round of misfortunes.” 

“ Is she a cripple? ” 

“ She has lost one hand, besides being 
afflicted with a lung disease which has kept 
her confined to her bed for more than a year.” 

“ How did she lose that hand? ” 

“She pricked her finger with a mattress 
needle, and as she could not stop work, blood 
poisoning followed, and she was forced to have 
her arm amputated.” 

“Poor woman,” broke in the old man, ab- 
sent-mindedly. 

“ As for her lung trouble, it is very com- 
mon among women who continually breathe 
the dust arising from the wool used in mat- 
tresses. My godmother is almost bent double, 
and during her long paroxysms of coughing I 
am sometimes obliged to support her in my 
arms for hours.” 

“You alone, then, contribute to her sup- 
port?” 

“ Certainly, since she is unable to work.” 

“ Such devotion on your part is very gen- 
erous.” 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


19 


“ I only do my duty, monsieur. She gave 
me shelter after my parents died, and paid for 
my three years of apprenticeship in the shop. 
Is it not just that I should now care for 
her?” 

“You must work very hard to earn suffi- 
ciently.” 

“ From fifteen to eighteen hours a day.” 

“ And instead of taking a much needed rest 
at night, you watch over your godmother?” 

“Who would care for her if I did not?” 

“ Why not try to place her in the hospital ? ” 

“She wonld not be admitted, as her case is 
incurable. Besides, I scarcely think I would 
have the courage to desert her thus.” 

“You are indeed a noble girl, my child, 
and I judged you rightly,” declared the old 
man, grasping her hand in his. 

“Oh! my God!” cried Mariette, as she 
saw his sleeve catch the inkstand, spilling the 
contents over the precious letter. “Ah! mon- 
sieur, what a misfortune!” 

“ What awkwardness! ” exclaimed the writer 
angrily. “But never mind, I can copy it in a 
very few minutes. I shall read it aloud as I 


20 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


go on, so that you may suggest any change 
you may think proper.” 

“I am so grieved to give you all this 
trouble,” she murmured, evidently much dis- 
tressed. 

“It serves me right, my dear, — I alone 
am to blame.” 

As he resumed his work, a violent internal 
conflict seemed reflected on his features; from 
time to time a sigh of relief and satis- 
faction escaped his lips^ then again he ap- 
peared confused and avoided Mariette’s limpid 
gaze ; while she leaned on the table, her head 
supported on one hand, anxiously and enviously 
following the rapid pen of the writer, as he 
traced the magic characters that would convey 
her thoughts to her lover. 

“How much do I owe you, monsieur?” she 
asked timidly, when he had folded the missive 
and addressed it. 

“ Fifty centimes,” rejoined the old man, 
after a moment of hesitation, “ and remember 
that I charge you for one of the letters only. 
I alone am responsible for my awkwardness.” 

“ You are very kind, monsieur,” said Mari- 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


21 


ette, touched by what she considered a proof 
of generosity on his part. “ Indeed,” she 
added, as she replaced her slender purse into 
her pocket, “you have been so good to me 
that I shall ask you a very great service — ” 

“ Go on, my child.” 

“If I have more letters to send, it will be 
almost impossible for me to go to a stranger — ” 

“ I shall always be at your service, my 
child.” 

“ What I wished to say was, that my god- 
mother is also unable to write or read, and the 
friend who was my confidante has gone to the 
country. So if I should receive a letter from 
M. Louis, would you have the goodness to read 
it for me ? I would then dictate the answer at 
once.” 

“Certainly, my child; bring me all your 
letters,” rejoined the old man, dissimulating 
his satisfaction. “ I am indeed much gratified 
by the confidence you show in me. Good-bye, 
then. I hope you feel less embarrassment now 
than when you entered?” 

“ I did not expect so much kindness, mon- 
sieur.” 


22 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


“Try to look on me as your reader and 
secretary, my child. Does i<t not seem as 
though we had known each other for ten 
years.” 

“ Indeed it does — Good-bye, monsieur.” 

Mariette had scarcely vanished, when the 
postman pushed the door open and handed in 
a letter, saying: “ Here is a letter from Dreux, 
p&re Bichard.” 

“A letter from Dreux!” exclaimed the old 
man, grasping it eagerly and examining the 
writing closely. “ Ah! it comes from Bamon,” 
he muttered to himself. “ I wonder what he 
thinks of my son? Alas! what will now be- 
come of the fine projects so long formed be- 
tween us!” 

“Six sous, pkre Bicliard,” observed the 
postman, arousing him from his reverie. 

“Six sous!” cried the old man. “The 
devil! was it not prepaid? Ah! true enough,” 
he sighed, as he regretfully handed the man 
the coin he had just received from Mariette, 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


23 


CHAPTER II. 

In the meantime, Mariette was hurrying 
homeward, somewhat uneasy at the thought of 
her long absence. Having reached that sad, 
gloomy street known as the Rue des Pretres- 
Saint-Germain, she walked rapidly along until 
she came to the last dingy house facing the 
dark walls of the church, where she entered. 
Crossing an obscure passage, the girl ascended 
a rickety stairway, only dimly lighted from a 
small court-yard that resembled nothing more 
than a narrow well, and stopped at the door of 
the portiere. 

“Madame Justin,” she said to the woman, 
who stood on the threshold, “ have you been 
up to see if my godmother wanted anything?” 

“ I carried up her milk, Mademoiselle Mari- 
ette,” replied the woman, “but she was in 
such a temper that she received me like a dog.” 

“ We must take pity on her, Madame Jus- 
tin; she suffers so much.” 


24 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


“ Of course you always excuse ner ancl 
suffer everything in silence, Mademoiselle 
Mariette. It shows your kind heart, but it 
does not alter the fact that your godmother is 
as wicked as a red mule. Poor child! you are 
doing your purgatory on earth ; and if there is 
no Heaven, you will be well cheated.” 

“ Good-bye, Madame Justin, I must go up 
now.” 

“Wait a moment, I have a letter for you.” 

“A letter!” cried Mariette, her cheeks 
flushing and her heart throbbing violently. 
“Is it from the provinces?” 

“Yes; the postmark is from Dreux, and it 
costs her six sous. Here it is. The word 
‘ Urgent ’ is written in one corner of the en- 
velope.” 

The girl thrust the missive in her bosom ; 
then drawing her purse, she took out her last 
ten sous piece and paid the woman. Taking 
her key, she then ran up the last stairs, her 
heart beating wildly with a sensation of 
mingled happiness and sadness. Though she 
was happy in the possession of the letter, the 
word “ Urgent ” on the corner of the envelope 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


25 


filled lier with misgivings; besides, what sad- 
ness filled her heart at the thought that 
perhaps several hours must elapse before 
she could learn what Louis Bichard had writ- 
ten. 

Having finally reached the fifth floor of 
the dilapidated house, so gloomy and ill-smell- 
ing, with its atmosphere poisoned by stagnant 
water in the defective sinks and sewers, she 
hesitatingly entered the dingy room occupied 
by her godmother and herself. 

A woman was lying with her face to the 
wall, on the only bed that the room boasted; 
while the thin mattress that served Mariette 
as a couch was rolled in a corner, as much 
out of the way as possible. A work table, an 
old dresser, two chairs, and a few kitchen uten- 
sils hanging around the chimney, composed 
the sole furniture of this humble home, lighted 
only by a narrow window overlooking the 
gloomy yard, but the most rigorous neatness 
was remarkable everywhere. 

The girl’s godmother, Madame Lacombe, 
was a tall, gaunt woman of fifty years, with a 
cadaverous complexion and harsh, disagreeable 


26 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


features. A bitter, sardonic smile, caused by 
a lifetime of misery and suffering, habitually 
contracted her livid lips, her form being al- 
most bent double ; her mutilated arm and bil- 
ious face, enframed in a ragged cap, through 
which hung long wisps of gray hair, were 
alone visible outside the coverings. 

“Where have you been?” she cried, in a 
rasping voice, making an effort to turn in her 
bed as the girl entered. 

“Dear godmother, I — ” began Mariette. 

“ Oh, yes; you go running about the streets, 
leaving me here alone to fret and fume! ” inter- 
rupted the woman furiously. 

“But I was scarcely gone an hour,” pro- 
tested the girl. 

“ And you hoped to find me dead on your 
return, eh?” 

“Heavens! how can you think such a 
thing!” sobbed Mariette. 

“Oh! yes; you may whine now. But I am 
not your dupe! You have had enough of me; 
and the day when I am screwed down in my 
coffin will be a day of rejoicing for you — and 
so will it be for me, too — Oh ! my God ! this 


A CAKDINAL SIN. 


27 


is too much agony,” she groaned, pressing her 
thin hand to hear breast. 

Mariette wiped away the tears drawn by 
this harsh sarcasm, and approaching the bed, 
said sweetly: “You had such a bad night 
that I thought you might sleep a little in my 
absence.” 

“ Oh! yes — you leave me here alone, to die 
like a dog, while you rhn about the streets.” 

“ I was obliged to go out, but Madame Jus- 
tin promised — ” 

“I had rather see death itself than that 
creature,” interrupted the sick woman angrily, 
“ and you take every opportunity to send her 
to me.” 

A bitter smile flitted over the girl’s lips; 
but she passed this new sarcasm unnoticed and 
said gently: “Shall I put fresh bandages on 
your arm ? ” 

“It’s too late now; you stayed away pur- 
posely.” 

“I am sorry I was delayed; but allow me to 
do it now.” 

“ Leave me alone.” 

“ But the wound will be inflamed.” 


28 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


“ Tliat’s exactly what you are aim bug at.” 

“Godmother, I beg you!” 

“Don’t come near me!” shrieked the sick 
woman furiously. 

“ I shall wait then,” sighed the'girl. “ Shall 
I warm up your milk?” 

“Milk! milk! and nothing but milk! — I 
am just sick of it. The doctor prescribed good 
chicken broth; and here it is Sunday, and I 
have had none since Tuesday.” 

“It’s no fault of mine, godmother. The 
doctor prescribes — but money must be found 
to provide what he orders. And I can scarcely 
make twenty sous a day now.” 

“You don’t mind what you spend on your- 
self,” snapped Mme. Lacombe. 

“ You know well that I have worn nothing 
but this faded print dress all winter,” rejoined 
Mariette, with touching resignation. “ I econ- 
omize as much as I can — and we owe two 
quarters of rent.” 

“You might as well say right now that I 
am a burden to you. These are the thanks I 
get for taking you out of the streets and pay- 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


29 


ing for your apprenticeship ! — you ungrateful, 
heartless child! ” 

“ No, no, I am not ungrateful, godmother! ” 
protested Mariette, restraining her tears with 
difficulty “And, if you suffered less, you 
would not be so unjust to me — but do take 
something, or else you will be ill.” 

“ I know it; I feel a terrible gnawing at my 
stomach.” 

“ Please have some milk, godmother,” en- 
treated the girl. 

“Go to the devil with your milk!” she 
snapped angrily. 

“ Shall I get you some fresh eggs ? ” 

“No!” 

“ Will you have some rice? ” 

“I want some chicken! ” 

“ But I can’t get one on credit.” 

“ You had twenty-seven sous in your purse 
this morning, and the quarter of a chicken will 
do me.” 

“ But, godmother, that money — ” 

“ Well, what about that money?” 

“It’s gone; I have only a few sous left.” 


30 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


“And where are those two ten-sous pieces? 
— Will you answer me ? ” 

“I — I don’t know,” faltered the girl, re- 
proaching herself bitterly for spending her 
money on the letters. “ They must have 
dropped from my purse; for I have lost them.” 

“ You lie! — I see it in your face.” 

“ I assure you — ” 

“ That’s it,” rejoined the sick woman, with 
a sardonic laugh. “ she leaves me to rot on this 
wretched pallet, while she feasts on cakes and 
sweetmeats! ” 

“I? — Oh, my God!” moaned the girl. 

“Out of here, you wretched creature! You 
may leave me to starve; but don’t let me see 
your face again!” cried the unhappy woman, 
driven to desperation by the tortures she en- 
dured and the exasperating animosity of fate 
against her. “Ah! yes, you are very anxious 
to make me swallow that milk,” she added, 
with a still more ironical laugh; “ I am such a 
burden that you may have dropped something 
in it!” 

At this accusation — still more senseless 
than atrocious — Mariette remained for a mo- 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


31 


ment dumbfounded, not realizing the full 
meaning of the horrible words. But when 
their full sense burst upon her, she clasped 
her two hands together and shrank back in 
terror ; then, unable to restrain her sobs any 
longer, and yielding to an irresistible impulse, 
she threw her arms about the sick woman’s 
neck and, covering her face with tears and 
kisses, murmured brokenly : “Oh! godmother! 
godmother! ” 

This heart-broken protestation against an 
accusation which could have had its birth in a 
delirious brain only, fortunately recalled the 
sick woman to reason. Her heart relaxed a 
little under this flow of tears, and she realized 
her injustice. 

“There, there, little one,” she said with 
emotion, as she took one of the girl’s trembling 
hands in hers and pressed the quivering form 
against her breast, “ don’t cry so — how foolish 
you are! — don’t you see I was only jest- 
ing?” 

Jesting! A sad jest, alas! worthy only of 
such abject misery. 

“ Yes; I was wrong to take your words seri- 


32 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


ously,” returned Mariette, wiping away, the 
tears from her pale cheeks. 

“What will you? you must take pity on 
your poor godmother, my little Mariette. By 
dint of suffering, you see, my gall has over- 
flowed, and my heart is like my mouth — bitter, 
Oh, so bitter! ” 

“ I know that you grumble in spite of your- 
self sometimes, godmother — Ah, it is so easy 
to be always cheerful and contented when one 
is happy ; while you have found little happiness 
in your life.” 

“True enough,” said the old woman, feel- 
ing a sort of cruel satisfaction in justifying her 
embittered character by the enumeration of 
her wrongs against an inplacable destiny ; 
“true enough, many have fared as badly as my- 
self, but few have fared worse. Beaten in my 
apprenticeship, beaten by a drunken husband, 
crippled and ill, I have dragged my chains 
for fifty years, and none can say that I have 
had one happy day — one single happy day in 
my accursed life. As we say, my little Mari- 
ette, my life has been without a single Sunday, 
while each day is a holiday to so many.” 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


33 


“ Poor godmother, I can understand what 
you have suffered,” murmured the girl, sympa- 
thetically 

“ No, no, you can never understand, al- 
though you have known much sorrow in your 
eighteen years. You are pretty, at least, and 
when you have a new frock, with a fresh bit of 
ribbon in your golden hair, you can smile at 
your reflection in the mirror and feel a mo- 
ment of happiness.” 

“~01i, godmother! I — ” 

“Be frank, little one; admit that it makes 
you happy, and perhaps a little proud, too, 
when people turn their heads to look at you, 
in spite of your faded gown and coarse 
shoes.” 

“Indeed you are mistaken, godmother; it 
makes me blush to have any one look at me. 
When I worked at the shop, there was a gen- 
tleman who came every day and always gazed 
persistently at me while talking to Madame 
Jourdan, and it mortified me to death.” 

“Yes, but at heart you were pleased; and 
when you are old you will remember it. You 
will then have something like a reflection of 
3 


34 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


your youth ; while I see nothing but gloom, 
and don’t even know if I was ever young. But 
as for being ugly, I am sure of that.” 

“ Oh! godmother! ” 

“Yes, I was so ugly that I could not bear 
the sight of a mirror. The consequence was 
that I found nothing better than a drunken 
husband, who nearly killed me with blows ; and 
I was even deprived of the chance of rejoicing 
over his death, for I was obliged to pay his 
debts at the wine-shop. Then I became a 
cripple, and would starve were it not for 
you.” 

“You are unjust, godmother,” observed 
Mariette, with a tender smile, trying to dispel 
her melancholy. “ To my knowledge, you 
have had one happy day, at least, in your life.” 

“ Which was that? ” 

“ The day you gave me shelter, after my 
mother’s death. Did not the good action give 
you satisfaction and make you happy for the 
day?” 

“Well, if you call that a happy day — I 
want no more like it.” 

“Why?” 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


35 


“ It was rather one of my worst days!"’ 

u Oh! godmother!” expostulated the girl 
sadly. 

“ Since my wretched husband’s death, I had 
but myself to care for ; but in taking charge of 
you, it was like being left a widow with a child 
to support. I call that anything but gay, 
when a woman can scarcely earn her own liv- 
ing. But you looked so charming with you! 
pretty curly head and large blue eyes, and you 
seemed so sad kneeling beside your mother’s 
coffin, that I had not the heart to let them 
take you to the asylum. And what a dreary 
night I spent, wondering what I would do with 
you, and what would become of you if work 
failed me! And you call that a happy day? 
No, no! Had I been in comfortable circum- 
stances, I would have felt that your future was 
assured and been happy. But to merely ex- 
change your misery for worse still was nothing 
to rejoice over.” 

‘ Well, let us say no more about days,” 
said Mariette soothingly, smiling through her 
tears, “but let us speak of moments; for I am 
determined to show that you have experienced 


36 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


some happiness. Now, for instance, take this 
moment — ” 

“ Well, what of it?” 

“ I am sure that you are happy to see that 
I have dried my tears, thanks to your kind 
words.” 

The sick woman shook her head sadly. 

“ Do you know what I think when I get 
over my bad humor?” she said, with a sigh. 
“Well, I think that you must hate me for my 
harshness and injustice toward you. And I 
deserve it, too.” 

“ Now you are going back to your melan- 
choly thoughts,” said the girl reproachfully. 

“Admit that I am right. It’s only natural, 
after all. You kill yourself working for me, 
you feed and nurse me, and I repay you with 
harsh words only. My death would indeed be 
a relief to you ; and the sooner I am laid in my 
coffin the better.” 

“ I know you are jesting once more,” re- 
joined Mariette, making an effort to smile, 
though her heart was full to bursting. 

“ Well, if I am only jesting, little one, don’t 
look so grieved,” returned the old woman, 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


37 


touched by the girl’s evident distress. “ Now 
put the milk on the fire, and bandage my arm 
while waiting for it to boil.” 

Mariette was as delighted over these orders 
as though they had been the kindest words in 
the world. She hastily lighted the fire; cut up 
their only remaining piece of bread into a dish 
of milk, placed it on the stove, and returned to 
the invalid. 

In spite of the repugnance which the putrid 
sore inspired in her, Mariette showed as much 
patience as dexterity in cleansing and bandag- 
ing the mutilated arm; and the young girl’s 
devotion, as well as her noble resignation, 
touched the woman’s heart anew. 

“ Sisters of Charity are often praised, my 
dear,” she said admiringly, “but none of them 
deserve half the praise you do.” 

“ But those good sisters devote their time 
to strangers, godmother,” protested the girl 
modestly, “while you are like a mother to me. 
I only do my duty, and therefore have no 
merit.” 

“ Poor child, my affection for you brings 
you but little happiness. Only a few moments 


88 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


ago I made you burst into tears ; and to-mor- 
row will be the same as to-day.” 

To escape from a reply to these bitter words, 
Mariette brought the steaming milk, which the 
invalid drank with appetite, and then busied 
herself in making the bed more comfortable. 

“What will you eat, Mariette?” asked the 
old woman, as she swallowed the last spoonful. 

“Oh! I have had my breakfast,” said the 
girl bravely. “ I bought a small loaf of rye 
bread this morning and ate it on my way — 
there, now,” giving a last shake to the pillow, 
“you must try to sleep, you had such a bad 
night — are you more comfortable now?” 

“Yes, thank you, child.” 

“I shall take my work near the window; 
the room is dark and this is very delicate 
work.” 

“What is it?” 

“A fine cambric chemise, godmother. 
Madame Jourdan trusted me with it only after 
many recommendations not to lose this mag- 
nificent Valencienne trimming, which alone is 
worth two hundred francs. This brings the 
cost to three hundred francs apiece, and there 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


39 


are two dozen to make. It seems they are in- 
tended for somebody’s mistress,” concluded 
the girl naively. 

The invalid burst into a sardonic laugh. 

“What is it?” asked Mariette in surprise. 

“ Such a funny idea.” 

“Ah!” ejaculated Mariette, with a vague 
feeling of apprehension, for she knew only too 
well the habitual character of her godmother’s 
jests. “What idea, godmother?” 

“ I was asking myself of what use such 
people as you and I are in this world — wretched 
creatures, who know nothing but the sorrows 
and miseries of life; do you know, child?” 

“ Indeed, godmother, I scarcely know what 
to say.” 

“ Why should a respectable girl like you, 
who has but two or three ragged chemises to 
her name, earn the paltry sum of twenty sous 
per day sewing chemises worth three hundred 
francs apiece, for — ” She burst into another 
bitter laugh, and turned her face to the wall, 
saying: “Take up your work courageously, 
child! I shall try to dream of cemeteries to 
cheer me up! ” 


40 


A CAEDINAL SIN. 


CHAPTER III. 

Mariette’s heart was fortunately too pure, 
and she was, moreover, too preoccupied with 
her own thoughts to feel the wretched bitter- 
ness of this last sarcasm. Drawing the letter 
she had received from her bosom, she placed 
it on her lap where her godmother’s eyes could 
not reach it, and gazed longingly at it while 
continuing her work. 

The regular breathing of the invalid soon 
convinced her that she was asleep, however, 
and she paused in her work long enough to 
tear open the envelope and spread the letter 
before her eyes. Vain and puerile curiosity! 
The characters were undecipherable to her! 
No picture could be more sorrowful and touch- 
ing than the sight of this young girl, gazing 
with a fast beating heart at the unintelligible 
missive. One thing she remarked, however; 
the letter was very short, and this fact filled 
her with hope and uneasiness both. 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


41 


Did tliis short, urgent letter announce good 
or bad news? she anxiously asked herself. 

With her eyes fixed on the mysterious 
words, Mariette lost herself in conjectures and 
suppositions, fully convinced that so short a 
letter, after a prolonged absence, must inevita- 
bly bring unexpected news. In her poignant 
perplexity Mariette endured torments and ex- 
cruciating torture, to which the uneducated 
are continually exposed. To hold in our grasp, 
and beneath our eyes, the few lines that bring 
us joy or sorrow, and be unable to penetrate 
the secret; to be under the necessity of asking 
a stranger to read these lines, and to receive 
from indifferent lips the announcement of 
something on which life itself almost depends, 
is an agony beyond words! 

Mariette’ s anguish soon reached such a 
point that she resolved, at the risk of being 
cruelly treated on her return, to have recourse 
to the public scribe at once. Cautiously aris- 
ing from her seat, that she might not arouse 
the sick woman, she tiptoed softly to the door; 
but as she crossed the threshold, a sudden 
painful thought stopped her. She could not 


42 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


ask the scribe to read the letter without dic- 
tating a reply, and she possessed barely enough 
money to purchase the bread necessary for the 
day. She already ow r ed the baker twenty 
francs, and he had refused her further credit; 
she could not, therefore, spend her last sou on 
what she considered as culpable prodigality. 
The reader may smile at this picture of over- 
whelming grief and cruel recriminations against 
herself apropos of a couple of fifty centime 
pieces. Alas! no sum is small or insignificant 
to the poor; an increase of ten sous in wages 
brings back life to the starved bodies, alleviates 
that living agony which leads so many to a 
premature grave. 

For a moment the young girl was tempted 
to carry Louis’ letter to the janitress; but fear- 
ing the gossip and perhaps the raillery of the 
woman, she preferred to make a painful sacri- 
fice and not expose herself to new humiliations. 
She still possessed a pretty dress, bought at the 
Temple and altered to her figure, which she 
had worn only on the few occasions she had 
gone out with Louis. Taking the gown from 
its accustomed peg in the corner, she folded it 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


43 


into a basket with a silk fichn that was almost 
new, and walked cautiously to the door once 
more. 

“Going out again— ” muttered her god- 
mother, drowsily, as she turned over in her 
bed and dropped asleep once more. 

Mariette stood motionless for a moment, 
then glided softly through the door and ran 
swiftly down the stairs. 

Having obtained fifty sous on the gown and 
fichu at the Mont-de-Pi6t&, she hurried toward 
the Charnier des Innocents in quest of the old 
scribe. Since Mariette’s departure, and more 
especially since he had read his son’s letter in 
the morning, the old man had reflected with 
ever-growing anxiety over the obstacles he 
might have to overcome to accomplish his 
cherished project, in view of the secret he had 
discovered during his interview with the young 
girl. He was still buried in painful medita- 
tion when Mariette suddenly appeared at the 
door. 

“ What is it, my child? ” he asked, alarmed 
at this unexpected return. “ I did not expect 
to see you back so soon.” 


44 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


“ I have a letter from M. Louis, monsieur,” 
slie replied, her voice quivering slightly, as 
she drew the missive from her bosom, “ and I 
have come to beg you to read it for me— and 
answer it if necessary.” 

Trembling with uneasiness and curiosity, 
she gazed intently at the old man while he 
glanced through the short letter, making 
a strong effort to conceal the annoyance given 
him by the few lines. Then suddenly starting 
up, and feigning great indignation, he tore the 
letter into shreds, crushed the pieces between 
his hands and hurled them under his desk. 

“Ah, monsieur, what have you done! ’’cried 
Mariette in dismay. 

“Ah! my poor child! ” sighed the old man, 
looking at her pityingly. 

“My God! something has happened M, 
Louis ! ” she gasped, clasping her hands to- 
gether. 

“ No, my child — but you must forget him.” 

“ Forget him? ” 

“Yes, believe me; you must renounce your 
cherished hopes.” 

“Heavens! what has happened?” 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


45 


“Ignorance is a very sad thing, my poor 
child; and yet, at this moment, I would pity 
you if you could read.” 

“But, monsieur, what does the letter con- 
tain?” 

“You must think no more of your 
marriage — ” 

“Does M. Louis write that?” 

“Yes; he appeals to your generosity and 
delicacy, as well as your kindness of heart.” 

“ M. Louis gives me up — and tells me to 
give him up also,” she said slowly. 

“Alas! yes, poor child! Come, be brave and 
resigned.” 

Mariette turned ghastly pale and stood silent 
for a moment, while big tears rolled down her 
cheeks ; then, falling to her knees, she gathered 
the fragments of the torn letter and placed 
them on the desk before the old man’s eyes. 

“I shall have the courage to hear it 
through,” she said sadly; “replace the pieces 
and read it.” 

* Please don’t insist, my child, I beg of 
you ’’ he rejoined, with hypocritical sympathy. 

' * In mercy, read it, monsieur! ” 


46 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


“But—” 

“However painful it may be for me to 
listen, I must know its contents.” 

“ I have already told you wliat it contained 
— spare yourself useless pain.” 

“ Have pity on me, monsieur! In the name 
of heaven, read it — read it! I must at least 
know the full extent of my misfortune — and, 
besides, there may be one line or word @f con- 
solation.” 

“ Since you insist on it, my poor child, I 
shall read it,” said the old man, readjusting the 
torn pieces, while Mariette looked on with 
eyes dimmed with tears, her heart throbbing 
with anguish. “ Here it is.” 

“My Dear Mariette: 

“ I write these few words in haste, my 
soul filled with the sadness of death. We 
must renounce our hopes, for I must secure 
comfort and rest for my father in his old 
days. You know how much I love my father. 
I have given my word, and we shall never 
meet again. 

“One last prayer: I address myself to 
your delicacy of feelings and generosity of 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


47 


heart — do not attempt to see me again, or 
change my resolution. I must choose between 
you and my father; and if I see you again I 
may not have the courage to do my duty as a 
son. My father’s fate lies in your hands, and 
I count on your generosity. Farewell, I can 
write no more. 

“Farewell once more, Farewell forever! 

Louis.” 

Standing motionless beside the writer’s 
desk, with downcast eyes and the tears rolling 
silently down her pale cheeks, her lips quiver- 
ing and her hands clasped convulsively to- 
gether, Mariette presented a fit model for the 
picture of “ Despair,” as she listened to the 
words that crushed her heart with such cruel 
force. 

“ There, I was sure the letter would pain 
you frightfully,” observed the old man, looking 
up as he finished reading. 

Mariette made no reply. 

“Don’t tremble so, my child,” resumed the 
old scribe, “sit down — here, take this glass 
of fresh water.” 

Mariette did not even hear; but still stood 


48 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


gazing fixedly at tlie torn letter, though she 
saw it but dimly through her tears. 

“It is all over, then,” she murmured 
brokenly. “Nothing — nothing more in this 
world! — I was too happy. Ah ! I am like god- 
mother ; happiness was not made for me ! — ” 

Her voice died out in a stifled sob, and a 
pang of remorse smote the old man as he 
gazed at her white, set face. 

“ My dear child,” he said soothingly, “ pray 
don’t give way to despair.” 

These words recalled the young girl to her- 
self; she wiped away her tears and, bending 
down, slowly gathered the pieces of the letter. 

“What are you doing?” cried the scribe, 
in alarm. “Why should you preserve these 
fragments, which can only recall cruel sou- 
venirs ? ” 

“ The tomb of some one we have loved, also 
recalls painful and cherished souvenirs,” said 
Mariette, sadly, “ and yet we do not desert it.” 

Having replaced the pieces in the envelope, 
she again thrust it in her bosom ; and, drawing 
her thin shawl closely about her shoulders, 
turned toward the door. On the threshold, 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


49 


however, she paused hesitatingly and looked 
back at the old man. 

“ Thank you very much for your kindness, 
monsieur,” she said gratefully; then, after a 
moment’s silence, she added timidly: “Al- 
though there is no answer to this letter, I feel 
that after so much trouble I should offer 
you — ” 

“It will be ten sous, the same as a letter,” 
interrupted the scribe; and without the least 
scruple or hesitation, he pocketed the remuner- 
ation with a sort of sensual pleasure, entirely 
unimpaired by the girl’s wretchedness. 

“ Good-bye, my poor child,” he said, “ I 
hope we shall meet again under happier cir- 
cumstances.” 

“ May heaven grant it, monsieur.” 

She walked slowly away, while old Bichard 
closed the shutters of his shop and prepared to 
return home. 

Haunted by the most somber thoughts, and 
a prey to the most poignant emotions, Mariette 
walked mechanically onward, unconscious of 
surroundings, and of the way she went, until 
startled by the sight of the river. 
i 


50 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


“ Fate lias brought me here,” she said with 
a shudder. 

Crossing to the opposite side of the bridge, 
she leaned on the parapet and gazed at the 
rapid waters of the stream. Little by little, 
she began to experience that strange fascina- 
tion caused by the attraction of the abyss ; and 
as her eyes followed the swift current, she felt 
overtaken by a sort of vertigo and drawn more 
and more toward the flowing waters. 

“ Here is oblivion and an end to all sor- 
rows !” thought the unhappy girl. “It is a 
sure refuge against all miseries, against fear 
and hunger, illness and unhappy old age — 
wretched as that of my godmother’s — Ah! 
what would become of her without me? — ” 

At that moment she felt her arm grasped 
violently, and a frightened voice cried out: 
“ Look out, child, or you will fall into the 
river ! ” 

The girl drew back shuddering, and gazed 
wildly around her. 

“ Do you know that you are very imprudent, 
to say the least of it, my child,” said a good- 
natured looking woman, who stood beside her. 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


51 


“ You were leaning so far over the parapet 
that I thought you would lose your footing any 
moment.” 

“ Thank you, madame,” replied Mariette, 
“I am very careless, indeed.” 

“ You must be more careful, my dear,” re- 
turned the woman warningly. “ Heavens! how 
pale you are — are you ill?” 

“ I feel a little faint, madame,” said the 
girl, feeling a painful dizziness come over her, 
“but it will pass away.” 

“ Lean on me, then. You are, no doubt, just 
recovering from a serious illness?” 

“Yes — that’s it, madame,” responded 
Mariette, passing her hand over her brow, 
“ but where am I?” 

“At the Pont cm Change — Are you a 
stranger in Paris?” asked the woman, curi- 
ously. 

“ No, madame; but I was overcome with a 
strange feeling of dizziness a few moments 
ago. It is passing over now, and I recognize 
the surroundings. ” 

“ You had better take my arm, you are trem- 
bling so,” suggested the kind-hearted woman. 


52 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


“Thank you, madame; it’s not necessary, I 
live only a few steps from here.” 

“ Well, good-bye, and be very cautious.” 

Having recovered the entire possession of 
her senses, Mariette now felt her bitter sorrows 
even more keenly than before ; and she trembled 
at the thought of the harsh reception that await- 
ed her in her desolate home, when she had so 
much need of consolation, or, at least, of that 
isolation and sad tranquility which lulls the 
most intense grief into calm hopelessness. 

Being anxious to mitigate the cruel re- 
proaches which her prolonged absence would 
inevitably draw upon her, she bethought her- 
self of her godmother’s desire to obtain the 
part of a chicken, and determined to satisfy 
this whim in the hope of being forgiven. She 
therefore hastened to the neighboring shops, 
purchased the quarter of a fowl and two white 
rolls with what remained of the money obtained 
on her gown and fichu, and turned homeward 
once more. 

As she neared the house she was somewhat 
surprised to see an elegant cabriolet before the 
door; but she entered without giving the cir- 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


53 


cumstance another thought, and stopping at 
the lodge asked for her key. 

“Your key, Mademoiselle Mariette?” said 
Madame Justin, “ why, a gentleman has just 
gone up with it.” 

“What gentleman?” queried the girl. 

“ A decorated gentleman. And finely dec- 
orated, too, I assure you. A ribbon two good 
inches wide — and such a loop! Upon my 
word, I never saw a man more beautifully dec- 
orated.” 

“But I don’t know any decorated gentle- 
man,” exclaimed the girl in astonishment. 
“ He must be mistaken.” 

“No, indeed. He inquired for a woman 
named Lacombe, a cripple living with her god- 
daughter, who is a seamstress. There is no 
mistake, as you see.” 

“ Didn’t you tell him that my god-mother 
was ill and could see no one ? ” 

“Yes, I did. But he said he must see her 
on very important and urgent business; so I 
gave him the kej and let him go up alone, 
having no desire to be abused by your god- 
mother.” 


54 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


More and more astonished, Mariette as- 
cended the rickety stairs to the fifth floor, 
pausing on the landing to recover her breatli 
and find some excuse for her long absence. 
The door being ajar, she caught a glimpse of 
a stranger within the room, and the next mo- 
ment distinctly heard these words: 

“ I am delighted to find your god-daughter 
away, my good woman; I can explain myself 
more clearly without her presence.” 

Mariette, who had been on the point oi: en- 
tering, yielded to an involuntary sentiment of 
curiosity instead, and remained where she 
stood. 


4 CARDINAL SIN. 


55 


CHAPTER IY. 

The stranger was a man of forty-five years, 
or thereabouts, with worn but regular features, 
bearing deep traces of excessive dissipation 
and the most absolute profligacy. His physi- 
ognomy offered a strange mixture of deceit 
and impertinence ; and these disagreeable 
traits were still more emphasized by a dark 
heavy moustache, which shone with a lustre 
equaled only by the false ebony of his 
artistically curled hair. His hands and feet 
were large; and, notwithstanding his visible 
pretentions, he at once betrayed the vulgar 
personage destined, not to imitate, but to 
parody veritable elegance. His dress was 
pompous, and in exceedingly bad taste; and 
even Mariette could not refrain from a smile 
at his affected military attitude and the ridicu - 
lously large red ribbon that adorned hi 3 button- 
hole. 

Madame Lacombe, who had once more re- 


56 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


turned to lier gloomy and sardonic humor, was 
gazing at the stranger with as much astonish- 
ment as distrust, feeling an almost invincible 
aversion against this insolent and patronizing 
personage, who had unceremoniously taken a 
seat at some distance from the bed, and was 
nibbling at the gold head of his cane while 
pursuing the conversation with her. 

“Yes,” repeated the visitor, “I am de- 
lighted to find you alone; as I was saying, I 
can explain myself more clearly.” 

“ Monsieur,” said the invalid, in a crabbed 
tone, “ you have asked me if my name was 
Lacombe and if I was Mariette Moreau’s god- 
mother. I have already told you yes. Now 
what do you want of me? Explain yourself.” 

“To begin with, my good woman — ” he 
began. 

“I am called Madame Lacombe!” inter- 
rupted the woman. 

“The devil! Well, then, Madame La- 
combe,” resumed the stranger with mock def- 
erence, “ I shall first tell you who I am, and 
then proceed to explain what I w r ant.” 

“ Go on.” 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


57 


“I am called Commander de La Miraudi&re, 
an old military officer, as you see,” pointing to 
the red ribbon on his coat; “ ten campaigns 
and five wounds! ” 

“That’s nothing to me. And then?” 

“I have the most brilliant acquaintances in 
Paris: dukes, counts, marquises — ” 

“ What’s that to me?” 

“ I keep a carriage, and spend at least 
twenty thousand francs a year.” 

“ While my god- daughter and myself are 
starving on twenty sous per day — that is, when 
she can earn them ! ” exclaimed the invalid 
bitterly. “ Such is the justice of the world! ” 

“ No! it is not justice! ” protested the com- 
mander. “It is not just, and I am here to 
put an end to such injustice! ” 

“ If you are here to laugh at me,” rejoined . 
the woman, with an ominous scowl, “ you had 
better go.” 

“ Laugh at you, madame ! — I ! — judge me 
by what I offer. Do you want a pretty room, 
in a fine house, a servant to wait on you, two 
delicious meals every day, coffee every morn- 
ing, and fifty francs a month for your snuff or 


58 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


other little fancies ? Eh ! what do you say to 
that?” 

“I say — I say — that it’s all a lie — or 
else there is something beneath it. When one 
offers so much to a poor, crippled old woman, 
it is not for the love of God, I am sure.” 

“You are right, Mamma Lacombe; it’s for 
the love of two beautiful eyes.” 

“ Whose eyes? ” 

“Your god-daughter’s eyes, Mamma La- 
combe,” returned Commander de La Mirau- 
di&re cynically. “No use beating around the 
bush, you know.” 

“You know Mariette, then?” she said, with 
a piercing glance at his dissipated face. 

“I often visit Madame Jourdan’s establish- 
ment, for I am exceedingly fond of fine linen,” 
lie observed, casting a complaisant glance on 
the embroidered folds of his shirt. “I there- 
fore found frequent occasion to admire your 
god-daughter ; I think her beautiful and charm- 
ing, and — ” # 

“ And you want to buy her from me?” 

“Bravo! you are a woman of- intelligence 
and good sense, Mamma Lacombe. You un- 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


59 


der stand things without needless words. Now, 
this is my proposition: A fine, elegantly fur- 
nished apartment for Mariette, with whom you 
shall live, of course; five hundred francs per 
month for her expenses, exclusive of maid and 
cook ; a suitable trousseau for the girl ; and a 
purse of fifty louis to begin housekeeping, not 
counting costly gifts for good conduct. Be- 
sides this, there will be carriages, operas, balls, 
and a host of friends among ladies of my 
acquaintance. In a word, she will lead an en- 
chanted existence — the existence of a duchess! 
What do you think of it?” 

“ Why not? ” murmured the woman, with a 
strange smile. “ Poor wretches like us are 
only good to sell ourselves when we are young, 
or sell others when we are old.” 

“Come now, Mamma Lacombe; to quiet your 
honest scruples, we shall say sixty francs per 
month for your pin money, and throw a superb 
shawl into the bargain. This will enable you 
to appear to advantage beside Mariette, whom 
you must watch with motherly solicitude, and 
never allow out of your sight, for I am jealous 
as a tiger, and don’t like to be deceived.” 


60 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


“ Only this very morning,” put in the sick 
woman, “ I was saying to Mariette, ‘ You are a 
respectable girl, and barely earn twenty sous 
per day sewing on chemises worth three hun- 
dred francs apiece, for a kept woman.’” 

“ Chemises worth three hundred francs 
apiece, ordered from Madame Jourdan? Let 
me see — ah! yes, I know. They must be for 
Amandine, the mistress of the Marquis de 
Saint-Herem, my most intimate friend — I rec- 
ommended the establishment — a veritable 
fortune for Madame Jourdan, although that 
devil of a marquis seldom pays. But, on the 
other hand, all the furnishers and women he 
patronizes become the rage. Amandine was 
but an obscure little shop-girl six months ago, 
and now she is the most fashionable woman in 
Paris. And Mariette may have the same luck, 
you know. Fancy her wearing chemises worth 
three hundred francs apiece, instead of sew- 
ing them! Doesn’t it make you feel like 
bursting with pride, Mamma Lacombe ? ” 

“ Unless Mariette ended like a girl of my 
acquaintance, who also sold herself through 
misery.” 




A CARDINAL SIN. 61 

“ What happened her?” 

“She was robbed.” 

“Bobbed?” 

“ She was promised mountains of gold, too; 
but at the end of three months she was de- 
serted and left without a single sou. Then 
she killed herself in despair.” 

4i *The devil! what do you take me for?” 
cried the visitor, haughtily. “Do I look like 
a swindler; a Robert Macciiref ” 

“ I don’t know what you are.” 

“I, an old soldier! twenty campaigns and 
ten times wounded ! The intimate companion 
and friend of all the lions of Paris ! a man with 
his own carriage and who spends twenty thou- 
sand francs per annum! The d£vil! be frank 
with me! Do you require securities or ad- 
vances? Very well, then; the house shall be 
furnished within a week and the lease signed 
in your own name to-morrow, with the payment 
of a whole year in advance; besides, if we 
come to terms, here are twenty-five to thirty 
louis to bind the bargain.” 

Drawing twenty-eigbt gold pieces from his 
pocket, he tossed them on the work-table be- 


62 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


side the bed, saying: “I am not like you, 
Mamma Lacombe; I am not afraid of being 
robbed.” 

At the clinking of gold, the sick woman 
leaned out of her bed and cast a glance of cov- 
etousness at the glittering pieces. 

In all the course of her miserable existence, 
she had never possessed a single gold piece, 
and the sight of the scattered louis before her 
eyes almost dazzled her. Grasping a few in 
her withered fingers, she held them up to the 
light, trying to catch the sun’s rays that she 
might feast her hungry eyes on their sparkling 
beauty. 

“ I had to show the bait to catch the old 
witch,” said the tempter to himself, with a 
contemptuous smile. 

“At last, at last I have touched the glitter- 
ing gold!” muttered the old woman, jingling 
the yellow pieces in her hand. 

“Touching them is nothing; the agreeable 
part of it is to spend them, Mamma Lacombe.” 

“ And this is enough to live in comfort for 
four or five months,” she went on, piling up 
the coins with childish glee. 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


63 


“ You and Mariette will have as much for 
every month of the year, if you *only say so,” 
said the tempter. “ Yes, all this gold; do you 
hear ? in pure, glittering gold ! ” 

There was a long interval of silence ; then, 
raising her sunken eyes to the visitor, the in- 
valid said wistfully: “You think Mariette 
pretty and charming, monsieur, do you not? 
You are right; there is not a better creature 
in the world. Now, be generous toward her! 
This sum is nothing for a rich man like you — 
give it to us as a gift.” 

“ What! ” gasped the astounded man. 

“ Monsieur, you are good and kind, pray be 
charitable also,” pleaded the woman. 

“ This sum, so insignificant to you, would 
set us afloat once more. W e could pay our 
debts, and Mariette would not be obliged to 
kill herself working. She would then find 
time to seek a more remunerative position, and 
we would owe you five or six months of tran- 
quillity, of paradise — we live on so little! 
Come, my good sir, do that and we shall bless 
your name forever — and I can say that I was 
happy once in my life.” 


64 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


The request was so naive, the tone so sin- 
cere and earnest that the decorated visitor was 
more hurt than surprised at this proposition. 
He could neither understand nor believe that 
a human being could be stupid enough to 
seriously make such a request to a man of his 
stamp. 

“ This is anything but flattering,” he mut- 
tered to himself; “ the old witch must take 
me for a young duckling ready to be plucked.” 

“The devil! Mamma Lacombe,” he added 
aloud, bursting into a sneering laugh, “do you 
take me for a philanthropist, the inspector of 
charitable institutions, or a candidate for the 
Montyon prize? Tut, tut, you will rot in your 
bed before you receive^ charitable gifts of six 
hundred francs, redeemable in blessings and 
grateful thanks, my good woman! Bless my 
stars, I am not a bank of that sort! ” 

The sick woman had yielded to one of those 
wild, sudden hopes, which sometimes sway the 
most distrustful beings, and even the most 
hardened victims of implacable destiny. But 
the withering scorn it had brought upon her 
aroused all her ire and bitterness of heart. 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


65 


“Pardon me, Monsieur, if I have insulted 
you!” she rejoined, with her habitual sardonic 
laugh. 

“ I am not offended, Mamma Lacombe,” he 
returned magnanimously; “but let us come to 
the point. Shall I, yes or no, re-pocket these 
beautiful louis, which you take so much pleas- 
ure in handling? ” 

He stretched his hand toward the gold 
pieces, but she thrust it away with an instinct- 
ive movement and drew the shining coins 
nearer to her. 

“ One moment,” she said hoarsely, her eyes 
glittering with cupidity in their deep orbits, 
“ I shall not eat your gold! ” 

“ That is just what I am urging you to do, 
Mamma Lacombe ; I want you to eat that gold, 
on condition — ” 

“ I know Mariette,” she interrupted, her 
wistful gaze still fixed on the gold, “ she will 
never consent.” 

“ Nonsense! ” 

“I tell you she is" an upright girl. She 
might, like many others, yield to a man she 
loved ; but to you — never ! She would refuse, 


66 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


I am sure. You may laugh, but she has ideas 
of her own.” 

“ Granted, my good woman. I believe in 
Mariette’s good principles, for Madame Jour- 
dan has known her many years and she has 
full confidence in her.” 

“ Well, then?” 

“ Well, I also know, Mamma Lacombe, that 
you possess great influence over her and that 
she fears you like the devil himself — so 
Madame Jourdan informed me. Now, you 
can induce, or, if need be, compel Mariette to 
accept happiness! For, after all, you are 
lodged like beggars and starving to death. Be- 
sides, if you refuse, do you know what will 
happen ? The girl, with her fine sentiments of 
disinterestedness, will, sooner or later, become 
the victim of some unscrupulous rascal as poor 
as herself.” 

“ That may be, but she will not have sold 
her soul.” 

“Tut, tut, tut, those are mere phrases. 
Some fine day, this lover of her choice will 
probably desert her ; then, to save herself from 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


67 


starvation, she will end like the rest — mark 
my word.” 

“Yes, that may be,” she repeated, with a 
dismal moan. “ Hunger is a bad counselor, 
when we and our children have known its 
pangs. And how many of those poor, unhappy 
girls might be saved with this gold! And if 
Mariette were destined to end like them-- 
would it not be better to yield now? ” 

For a few moments, the most varied emo- 
tions were depicted on the pale, emaciated fea- 
tures of the unhappy, crippled creature. With 
eyes still fixed hungrily on the glittering 
pieces, she strove to calm the struggle waged 
between misery and virtue in her heart; then, 
by a desperate effort, she closed her eyes as if 
to escape the fascination of the gold, and sank 
back wearily on her wretched pallet. 

“Go, and leave me in peace!” she said 
feebly, as if exhausted by the violent conflict. 

“What! you refuse?” he cried in amaze- 
ment. 

“Yes.” 

“ Positively refuse? ” 


68 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


“Yes.” 

“ Very well, I shall take back my gold,” lie 
rejoined, slowly picking up the louis and jing- 
ling them together. “ I shall refill my pockets 
with the glittering yellow coins.” 

“The devil take you and your gold! ” cried 
the exasperated woman. “ Take it, and go! I 
have not sheltered Mariette all these years to 
sell her, body and soul. Bather than eat such 
bread, I would build a charcoal fire and make 
an end to us both.” 

At these words Mariette entered, pale and 
indignant, her cheeks bathed in tears and her 
eyes flashing with anger and scorn. 

“ Ah! god-mother,” she cried, throwing her 
arms around the woman’s neck, “I knew that 
you loved me as a daughter!” Then turning 
toward Commander de La Miraudi&re, whom 
she recognized as the man whose persistent 
gaze had so frequently annoyed her at Madame 
Jourdan’s establishment, she added with with- 
ering scorn: “ Go, this moment, monsieur! ” 

“But, my dear little dove — ” he began.* 

“I was there at the door, monsieur, and 
heard all,” she interrupted quickly. 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


69 


“ So much the better then, my dear. You 
know my offer ; you are still at liberty to accept 
v it.” 

“ Once more, monsieur, I beg you to go 
out.” 

“ There, there, T am going my little Lucre- 
tia! But I give you a week for reflection,” 
said the visitor, as he moved toward the door. 
Pausing on the threshold, however, he added: 
“Don’t forget my name, my dear — Com- 
mander de La Miraudi&re. Madame Jourdan 
has my address,” and he vanished with these 
words. 

“Ah! godmother,” cried the girl, kissing 
the sick woman with new effusion, “ how 
warmly you defended me! how your heart 
spoke for me ! ” 

“Yes, yes,” muttered the invalid, roughly 
disengaging herself from the girl’s embrace, 
“ and with those fine principles we starve in- 
stead of rolling in luxury.” 

“But, my dear godmother — ” Mariette 
tried to protest. 

“ There, there, it’s all said and done now,” 
cried the woman impatiently. “ I have done 


70 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


my duty, and you liave done yours — and it’s 
small good it will do either of us, you may 
count on that! ” 

“But godmother, listen to me — ” 

“ And if some fine morning we are both 
found dead with a charcoal fire between us, we 
shall only have done our duty once more. 
Ha! ha! ha! — ” and with this grim laugh, 
this unhappy creature, so pursued and exas- 
perated by wretchedness and misfortune, cut 
short the conversation by turning her face to 
the wall. 

Mariette silently brought in the basket con- 
taining her purchases, arranged the supper on 
the table near the bed, and quietly withdrew 
to the narrow window through which filtered 
the deepening twilight. Then drawing the 
torn fragments of Louis’ letter from her 
bosom, she gazed at them sadly, and sank 
back into grim despair. 

******** 

In the meantime, Commander de La Mi- 
raudi&re had reached the street and was rolling 
away rapidly in his dashing cabriolet. 

“Bah! this is only a first rebuff,” he was 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


71 


saying complacently to himself; “the girl will 
reflect, and that old schemer will think better 
of it. Her round eyes fairly blinked at the 
sight of my gold ; it dazzled her like the noon- 
day sun. Besides, their abject misery will 
plead in my favor, and I have no reason to 
despair. Two months of fat living will suffice 
to make the girl the prettiest woman in Paris; 
and she will do me credit at very small cost. 
But I must think of business now; I have 
made a precious discovery.” 

Having reached the Rue Grenelle-Saint- 
Honor6, he stopped his horse before a house of 
modest appearance and alighted. 

“Does M. Richard reside here?” he in- 
quired of the concierge. 

“Yes, monsieur, both the father and son 
live here,” replied the man. 

“ I want to speak to the son, M. Louis 
Richard ; is he at home ? ” 

“ He has just arrived in Paris; you will find 
him with his father.” 

“ I must see him alone.” 

“That’s rather difficult, as they have but 
one room between them.” 


72 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


The commander drew a card from his 
pocket, and wrote the following words above 
his own name: “Will expect M. Louis Richard 
at my home, between nine and ten o’clock to- 
morrow morning, to communicate something of 
grave importance, which admits of no delay.” 

“ My dear fellow,” he said, addressing the 
concierge, when he had replaced his pencil, 
“here are forty sous for a pourboire .” 

“ Thank you, monsieur,” rejoined the man, 
pocketing the money; “ but what do you expect 
me to do for it?” 

“ Remit this card to M. Louis Richard.” 

“ Nothing difficult about that.” 

“It must be given him to-morrow morning 
as he goes out, and without his father’s knowl- 
edge; do you understand?” 

“ Perfectly. It can be easily done, as M. 
Louis goes to his studies at seven o’clock, while 
old Richard leaves only at nine for his writing 
office.” 

“I may count on you then?” said the com- 
mander, leaping into the cabriolet. 

“ Consider it done, monsieur,” was the re- 
assuring reply. 


A CARDINAL SIN, 


73 


The carriage had scarcely vanished when 
the postman appeared with a letter addressed 
to M. Louis Richard. It was Mariette’s mis- 
sive, which the old scribe had addressed Rue 
de Grenelle, Paris, instead of Dreux, according 
to the girl’s request. 


74 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


CHAPTEB Y. 

• 

Old Bichard and liis son jointly occupied a 
dreary room on the fifth floor of a dilapidated 
house, which might have made a fit adjunct to 
the home of Mariette and her god-mother. The 
same wretchedness, the same destitution was 
visible everywhere. A thin mattress in one 
corner for the father, a straw bed in the other 
for the son, a mouldy table, a few chairs and 
an old wardrobe, composed the entire furniture 
of the dingy apartment. 

On his way homeward, the public scribe had 
purchased his supper and was now laying the 
frugal meal on the table ; an appetizing slice of 
ham, placed carefully on a piece of white paper 
that served as a plate, and a four-pound loaf 
of bread, the remains of which were to serve as 
breakfast the next morning. Add to this a 
bottle of fresh water, standing opposite a thin 
candle that scarcely dissipated the gloom of 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


75 


the room, and the picture of wretchedness was 
complete. 

Louis Richard was a young man of about 
twenty-five years, with a frank, open counte- 
nance, expressive of gentleness and intelli- 
gence, and a natural grace which his shabby, 
worn-out clothes could not conceal. As he 
dropped his modest traveling bag to the floor 
and embraced his father, whom he fairly wor- 
shipped, the happiness of being near him once 
more and the certainty of seeing Mariette the 
next day, made his face perfectly radiant with 

j°y- 

“And so you made a good voyage, my son,” 
observed the old man, his delight over the 
young man’s return somewhat dampened by 
the uneasiness he felt concerning his cherished 
projects for the future and the remembrance 
of the events of the day. 

“Excellent, father! ” returned Louis. 

“I am glad to hear it, my boy, and — but 
will you have some dinner? We can talk 
while eating.” 

“Will I have some dinner? Well, I should 
say so! I did not share the meals of the other 


76 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


travelers, and for the best of reasons,” laughed 
the young man gaily, slapping his empty 
wallet. 

“Upon my word, you lost but little, my 
son,” rejoined the father, cutting the slice of 
ham into two unequal pieces and giving the 
largest to the young man, “ those hotel dinners 
are expensive and not worth much ! ” 

Having offered Louis a formidable piece of 
bread, the old man helped himself to a crust, 
and both father and son bravely attacked the 
meager meal, with robust appetites, sprinkling 
it plentifully with glorious draughts of clear 
water. 

“ Tell me all about your journey now, my 
boy,” resumed the old man, when he had sat- 
isfied the first pangs of hunger. 

“ Really, father, there is not much to tell,” 
remarked Louis. “ The notary had given me 
copies of several deeds, which M. Ramon was 
to read. Well, he read and studied them most 
leisurely, taking five whole days! after which 
the said papers were given back to me, pro- 
fusely annotated by that wary personage, 
and — thank heaven — here I am at last!” 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


77 


“ Thank heaven? — can it be that you were 
lonely at Dreux?” queried the old man, look- 
ing up anxiously. 

“ I was bored to death, my dear father.” 

“ What kind of a man must this M. Ramon 
be, that you were so displeased?” 

“ The very worst kind in the world — a 
miser.” 

“Hum! hum!” coughed the old man, as if 
swallowing a disagreeable dose. “ So he is a 
miser? He must be rich then?” 

“I don’t know, but one maybe as avari- 
cious with a small fortune as with a great one ; 
and if we are to measure M. Ramon’s wealth 
by his parsimony, he must be a triple mill- 
ionaire — such a wretched old miser!” con- 
tinued Louis, contemptuously, biting into his 
bread with a sort of frenzy. 

“ Had you been brought up in luxury and 
abundance, I might understand your recrimi- 
nations against this old miser — as you call 
him,” rejoined old Richard, testily, “but we 
have always lived in such poverty that, how- 
ever miserly M. Ramon may be, you must have 


78 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


found but little difference between liis manner 
of existence and our own.” 

* But you don’t understand me, father. M. 
Ramon keeps two servants, and we have none; 
he occupies a whole house and we live in one 
attic room ; he has three or four dishes for his 
dinner, while we eat anything we may chance 
to have. And yet, we live a hundred times 
better than this greedy personage! ” 

“ I really don’t understand you, my child,” 
returned the father, more and more annoyed 
at his son’s opinion of his late host. “There 
can certainly be no comparison between that 
gentleman’s luxury and our poverty.” 

“ My dear father, we are veritably poor, at 
least! We cheerfully endure our privations; 
and if in my days of ambition, I have some- 
times dreamed of a more comfortable existence, 
it was not for myself, you may rest assured, 
for I am perfectly satisfied with my fate.” 

“I know your kind heart, my dear boy, as 
well as your love for me ; and my only consola- 
tion in our poverty is to know that you do not 
complain of your condition.” 

“Complain! do you not share it with me? 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


79 


and then, after all, what more could we 
want?” 

“We might want a little more comfort.” 

“Upon my word, I don’t see it in that 
light, father. We don’t eat stuffed chicken, it 
is true; but we eat all we want and with ap- 
petite — witness this empty paper and the dis- 
appearance of the four-pound loaf between us. 
Our clothes are shabby and worn, but they are 
warm ; our room is up five flights of stairs, but 
it shelters us ; we earn from sixteen to eighteen 
hundred francs per annum between us — the 
sum is not enormous, but it suffices; we have 
no debts! Ah! my dear father, may heaven 
never send us worse days, and I shall never 
complain.” 

“ My dear boy, I cannot tell you how happy 
it makes me to hear you speak thus, and to 
see you accept your fate so bravely. Tell me 
the truth — - have you — have you always been 
happy?” 

“ Very happy.” 

“Truly?” 

“ Why should I try to deceive you? Now, 
my dear father, have you ever seen me gloomy 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


or thoughtful? do I look like a discontented 
person?” 

“You are endowed with such an excellent 
character! ” 

“Oh, that depends on circumstances! If, 
for instance, I were obliged to live with M. 
Ramon, that abominable griping miser, I 
should certainly become unbearable, unmanage- 
able and frantic ! ” 

“ What can you have against that poor 
man?” 

“ All the ferocious resentment and rancour 
gathered during five days of torture! ” 

“ Torture?” 

“What else can it be, to inhabit a large 
dilapidated house, so empty, so cold and 
gloomy, that a tomb would be a cheerful dwell- 
ing in comparison? And then, to see the two 
wan, emaciated servants coming and going like 
shadows in this sepulchre; to assist at those 
meals — and what meals, great heavens ! — 
where the master of the house seems to count 
the bites you swallow! And such a daughter! 
— for the wretch has a daughter, alas! and 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


81 


liis race may perhaps be perpetuated. It is 
she who lays aside the servants, insufficient 
shares and puts the remains of the meager 
meal under lock and key ! All I can say is 
that, notwithstanding my usual good appetite, 
five minutes at that table sufficed to disgust me. 
For one is either one thing or the other; if 
rich, avarice is contemptible; if poor, it is 
stupid to attempt any display.” 

“My dear Louis, I find you strangely hos- 
tile to this poor man and his daughter — you 
who are always so kind and benevolent! ” 

“His daughter! do you call that a daugh- 
ter?” 

“ What in the devil do you mean! do you 
take her for a monster? ” 

“ I don’t take her for a woman.” 

“My dear boy, you must have taken leave 
of your senses! ” 

“ But, my dear father, what would you call 
a tall, dry creature, growling and snarling, 
with hands and feet like a man, a face like a 
nut-cracker, and a nose — great heavens, what 
a nose ! — as long as this knife, and red as a 

a 


82 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


brick! But to be just, I must admit that this 
incomparable creature has yellow hair and 
black teeth.” 

“The portrait is not flattering; but all wo- 
men cannot be equally beautiful. A kind 
heart is often better than a pretty face ; and as for 
me, ugliness has always inspired me with pity.” 

“ I will say that I was much inclined to 
pity her when I saw her disagreeable face at 
first, especially as she was condemned to live 
with a man as greedy as her father ; but when 
I saw that red-nosed creature eternally nag- 
ging and growling at those two unhappy ser- 
vants, measure their food, and rival with her 
father in avarice, my first impulse of compas- 
sion was immediately turned to aversion for 
that wicked red-nose. Notwithstanding my 
good nature, I felt a strong temptation to con- 
tradict and annoy this red-nose ; but, fearing to 
compromise my employer’s interests, I kept 
my peace and swallowed my rancour.” 

“ And you are relieving your mind with a 
vengeance.” 

“Ah! what a relief, after five long days of 
that red-nose /” 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


83 


“ You are painfully prejudiced, my son; I 
would wager that this lady, who appears so 
miserly and detestable in your eyes, is merely 
a woman of firm character and economical 
habits.” 

“Well, it matters little to me what she is! 
Only, I must say, there seems to exist singular 
contrasts in certain families.” 

“ What do you mean? ” 

“Imagine my surprise in discovering in 
one of the rooms of this dull house, the por- 
trait of a woman so beautiful, charming and 
distingue, that it seemed placed there expressly 
to continually mock and scoff at that wicked red- 
nose, The portrait so closely resembled one 
of my old class-mates, that I could not refrain 
from questioning the old miser about it. He 
then gruffly informed me that the original was 
his sister, Madame de Saint-Herem, who died 
some years since. But you would have died 
laughing had you seen them when I asked if 
she had left a son.” 

“Well, what did they do? ” 

“ At the name of young Saint-Herem you 
would have thought I had evoked the devil. 


84 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


Bed-nose grew fiery and fairly glowed ; while 
her worthy father admitted, with a withering 
glance at me, that he had the misfortune, in 
fact, to be the uncle of an infernal young 
bandit known as Saint-Herem.” 

“ This young man must bear a very bad 
reputation.” 

“Florestan? — why, he is the noblest and 
most charming fellow in the world! ” 

“ But his uncle tells you — ” 

“ My dear father, Saint-Herem and myself 
were close friends at college, and you must 
judge of him by what I shall relate. I had 
lost sight of him for years, when, as I was pass- 
ing along the boulevard six months ago, I 
saw everybody turn to look at something on 
the road, and I did likewise. I then perceived 
two magnificent horses harnessed to a phaeton, 
with two tiny domestics behind. This equi- 
page was so elegant and rich that it attracted 
general attention — and who do you suppose 
Avas seated in that carriage? My old class- 
mate Saint-Herem, more brilliant and handsome 
than ever! ” 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


85 


“ It seems to me he must be a reckless 
spendthrift.” 

“Wait till I have finished my story, father. 
The equipage stopped abruptly, and while the 
two little page’s alighted from their seats to 
hold the horses by the bridles, Saint-Herem 
leaped from the carriage, ran toward me, and 
fairly embraced me in his joy to find me again 
after so long a separation. I was dressed like 
a poor devil of a notary student, as I am ; with 
my maroon redingote, my black trousers and 
laced shoes. You must admit that many lions 
of society would have shrunk from the public 
recognition of a fellow as shabbily dressed as 
your humble servant. Florestan was so de- 
lighted to see me, however, that he paid no 
heed to my clothes. As for me, I was very 
happy and almost ashamed of this proof of 
friendship; for we presented such a contrast 
that everybody stared at us. Noticing the at- 
tention we attracted, my friend asked me where 
I was going and proposed to take me to my 
office, saying it would give us more time to 
talk. ‘What,’ I protested, ‘enter your beau- 
tiful carriage with my umbrella, my shabby 


86 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


coat and coarse shoes!’ Florestan shrugged 
his shoulders, took me by the arm, and led me 
to the carriage in spite of my remonstrances ; 
and when he left me at the office he made me 
promise to call on him at his apartments.” 

“Bah! ” ejaculated the old man contemptu- 
ously; “it was merely the result of a first im- 
pulse. I always distrust people who make 
extravagant displays; and, besides, you are not 
in a position to mix with society lions.” 

“ And yet I had to keep my word and break- 
fast with him one Sunday. He received me 
like a prince and welcomed me like a friend. 
Shortly afterward, however, he left Paris, and 
I have not seen him since.” 

“ How strange that you never told me of 
this breakfast, Louis!” 

“ I feared that in your tender solicitude for 
me you might imagine that the sight of Flor- 
estan’s luxury was capable of turning my head 
and disgust me with my poor condition. The 
suspicion I knew would grieve you, and I 
therefore resolved to conceal the fact that once 
in my life I had breakfasted in the style of a 
Sardanapalus or a Lucullus!” 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


87 


“I understand the delicacy of your con- 
duct, and am deeply touched by it, my boy,” 
said the old man with emotion; “it is another 
proof of your goodness and generosity of 
heart. But listen to me, my son, for it is to 
your kind heart and affection for me that I 
address myself.” 

“ What is it? ” 

“It is something very grave and serious; 
not only for you, but for me also.” 

The old man’s expression was so solemn as 
he uttered the last words, that the son looked 
up in surprise. 

There was a knock at the door at that 
moment, and the concierge entered, say- 
ing, “ Here is a letter for you, Monsieur 
Louis.” 

“ Yery well,” said the young man, taking 
the letter absent-mindedly, his whole attention 
centered on the grave subject just announced 
by his father. 

“ If you should go out this evening, Mon- 
sieur Louis,” added the man, as he moved 
away, “don’t forget to stop at my lodge; I 
have something to say to you.” 


88 


A CARDINAL SIN, . 


“ Very well,” replied Louis carelessly, as the 
man vanished. 

Old Richard had recognized Mariette’s let- 
ter at a first glance, and for a moment he was 
tempted to allow Louis to read it at once; but 
on further reflection he resolved to delay the 
blow. 

“ My dear boy,” he remarked, “ you will 
have plenty of time to read your letter later, 
and I want you to listen to me just now, for 
the subject is of the highest importance to us 
both.” 

“ I am at your service, father,” replied 
Louis, laying the letter on the table. 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


89 


CHAPTER VI. 

“As I have already said,” observed old 
Richard, after a moment of silence, “I shall 
appeal to your kind heart and affection for 
me.” 

“ You have but to speak, then, my father,” 
rejoined the young man dutifully. 

“You declared a few moments ago that if you 
sometimes dreamed of a more luxurious exist- 
ence, it was not for yourself, being entirely 
satisfied with your humble condition, but for 
me.” 

“And I repeat it! ” 

“Well, my child, the realization of your 
wish depends on yourself only.” 

“ What do you mean? ” 

“Listen to me. Reverses of fortune, which 
closely followed your mother’s death, while 
you were still a child, robbed me of nearly all 
I possessed, leaving me barely enough to pro- 
vide for your education. When this was all 


90 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


spent I was forced to open a bureau as public 
scribe — ” 

“ True, my good, kind father,” said the 
young man, with emotion; “and seeing with 
what courage and resignation you endured ill- 
fortune, my affection and veneration for you 
augmented to a degree that falls little short of 
worship.” 

“This ill-fortune may pursue us, my child; 
I am growing old, my sight is dimmed, and I 
foresee the sad day when it shall become im- 
possible for me to earn our daily bread.” 

“ My father, rely on — ” 

“ On you? You will do your best, I know, 
but your own future is precarious. You shall 
never be more than first or second clerk, for it 
requires money to buy out a notary’s office, 
and I am poor.” 

“ Don’t be alarmed, I shall always earn 
enough for both.” 

“ You are counting without illness or the 
force of events. How many unexpected cir- 
cumstances may reduce you to idleness for 
months! And then how should we live?” 

“ But, my dear father, if we poor people 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


91 


anticipated all the trouble we may be threatened 
with, we should certainly lose courage. Let 
us close our eyes to the future, and think of 
the present only. Thank God! there is noth- 
ing to frighten us in that.” 

“ When the future is threatening, it is 
assuredly wiser to turn the eyes away; but 
when it may be happy and smiling, it is better 
to face it! ” 

“ I don’t deny that.” 

“Well, I repeat it, our future lies in your 
hands; it depends entirely on you to make it 
happy and assured.” 

“ Then it is done. Only tell me how? ” 

“ I shall astonish you greatly. That poor 
M. Eamon, with whom you have just spent a 
few days and whom you judge so harshly, is 
an old friend of mine.” 

“He, your friend? ” 

“ Your visit to Dreux was arranged before- 
hand between us.” 

“ But those deeds — ” 

“ Your employer obligingly consented to 
aid us in our little ruse, by entrusting you 
with valueless papers.” 


92 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


“ But what was your purpose ? ” 

“ Ramon wanted to observe and study your 
character without your knowledge, and he as- 
sures me he is quite enchanted with you. I 
received a long letter from him this morning, 
in which he speaks of you in the highest 
terms.” 

“ I regret my inability to return the com- 
pliment; but why should it matter to me 
whether he thinks well or ill of me ? ” 

“It matters very much, indeed, my boy; 
for the happy future of which I spoke depends 
entirely on Ramon’s opinion of you.” 

“ This is an enigma to me.” 

“ Although not exactly rich, Ramon pos- 
sesses a modest fortune, augmented each day 
by his economies.” 

“Humph! I believe that. But what you 
charitably term economy is sordid avarice, and 
nothing else.” 

“ Call it what you will; we shall not bandy 
words about it. Owing to this avarice, how- 
ever, Ramon will leave a snug fortune after 
him — I say after him, because he gives noth- 
ing away during his life-time.” 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


93 



“I am not surprised at that. But I really 
cannot understand what you are leading to, 
father! ” 

“I feel some hesitation in pursuing; for 
however false and unjust first impressions may 
be, they are exceedingly tenacious — and you 
judged Mademoiselle Ramon so severely — ” 

“ Red-nose! Say rather that I was very in- 
dulgent! ” 

“ You will overcome these prejudices, I am 
sure. Believe me, Mademoiselle Ramon is 
one of those persons who improve on better 
acquaintance. She is a woman of firm charac- 
ter and exemplary virtues. What more can 
be desired in the mother of a family ? ” 

“The mother of a family!” gasped Louis, 
who until now had not suspected the danger 
that threatened him, but was beginning to con- 
ceive a vague fear. “ The mother of a fam- 
ily!” he repeated in dismay, “and what mat- 
ters it to me whether Mademoiselle Ramon is or 
is not fitted to become a good mother ? ” 

“ It matters more to you than to anyone 
else.” 


“ To me? ” 


94 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


“ Certainly.” 

“And why, pray?” 

“ Because my most cherished, and only de- 
sire is, to see you marry Mademoiselle Ra- 
mon,” declared the old man, resolutely. 

“ Marry — Mademoiselle Ramon! ” cried 
Louis, aghast, shrinking back in his chair as 
if the red-nosed spinster had suddenly ap- 
peared before him. “I — marry ? — ” 

“Yes, my child,” rejoined old Richard, in 
his most affectionate tone, “ marry Mademoi- 
selle Ramon, and our future is assured. We 
shall live at Dreux; Ramon’s house is sufficiently 
large for us all. He gives his daughter no 
dowry; but we shall live in his home, and his^ 
influence will obtain a position for you. At 
the death of your father-in-law, you will in- 
herit a snug fortune — Louis, my beloved son,” 
concluded the old man, beseechingly, grasping 
the young man’s hands in his, “consent to 
this marriage and you will make me the hap- 
piest man in the world; for I can then die 
without anxiety for your future.” 

“Ah! my father, you don’t realize what 
you ask!” rejoined Louis reproachfully. 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


95 


“You may say that you feel no love for 
Mademoiselle Ramon, but mutual esteem is 
sufficient in marriage ; and you must admit that 
she is deserving of that esteem. As to her 
father, I can understand that you may have 
been shocked at what you term his avarice; 
but this will seem less odious to you when you 
reflect that you shall one day enjoy* the bene- 
fits of this economy. At heart, Ramon is an 
excellent man. His only ambition is to leave 
a small fortune to his daughter and her hus- 
band; and to attain this aim, he practices the 
strictest economy. Do you call that a crime? 
Come, my child, give me one word of hope! ” 

“Father,” said the young man, in a con- 
strained voice, “it grieves me to disappoint 
you in your projects, but what you ask is 
impossible.” 

“ Louis, can you really answer thus, when 
I appeal to your affection for me?” 

“ To begin with, this marriage will bring 
you no personal advantage; you think of me 
only.”" 

“ What! do you call it no advantage to live 
in his house without spending a sou? I tell 


96 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


you it is all arranged; lie is to board us gra- 
tuitously, instead of giving his daughter a 
dowry.” 

“ Father, as long as there remains a drop 
of blood in my veins, you shall receive charity 
from no one! I have already begged you 
many times to give up your occupation, pledg- 
ing myself to provide for both — ” 

“But, if you were taken ill, my child, I 
should be forced to seek admittance into the 
alms-house! ” 

“ I shall not be ill, and you will want for 
nothing ; but if I had the misfortune to be that 
detestable creature’s husband, I should die of 
grief.” 

“You cannot be serious, my son.” 

“ Perfectly serious, father. In your blind 
affection for me you sought to contract an 
advantageous union, and I am deeply grateful 
for your kind solicitude — but let us dismiss 
the subject; as I have already said, this mar- 
riage is impossible.” 

“ Louis! ” 

“ I shall always feel an invincible aversion 
toward Mademoiselle Bamon; and besides, I 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


97 


love a young girl, and she alone shall be my 
wife.” 

“Ah! my son, I believed I enjoyed your 
full confidence, and yet you formed this grave 
resolution without consulting me ! ” 

“ I was silent on the subject because the 
young girl and myself agreed to wait a whole 
year before speaking of marriage, that we 
might be sure we had not mistaken a passing 
fancy for a real passion. Thank heaven! our 
love has resisted all trials. The time of pro- 
bation expires this very day, and to-morrow 
we shall fix the wedding day. The young girl 
I love is as poor as ourselves, but she possesses 
the noblest heart in the world. Never will 
you find a more devoted daughter, and I shall 
double in zeal and energy to make life agree- 
able to you. Believe me, nothing is more 
painful to me than to disagree with you, and I 
beg you to spare me the pain of another 
refusal. Do not insist on this union, for I 
shall never resign myself to it, and I swear by 
my affection for you that I shall have no other 
wife than Mariette Moreau.” 

The young man uttered these last words so 
7 


98 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


firmly that the father decided not to insist at 
that moment, but merely said in# grieved tone: 

“I cannot believe, Louis, that all the rea- 
sons I have pleaded in favor of this marriage 
can be without value in your eyes. I have 
more confidence in your heart than you seem 
to have yourself, and I am sure that reflection 
will bring you to a wiser decision,” 

“ I shall not change my mind.” 

“ I shall insist no further on the subject, 
but leave you to your reflections. I give you 
twenty-four hours to come to a definite resolu- 
tion. Until then, I shall not say a word of 
this marriage, and I beg of you, on your side, 
not to trouble me with your love affairs.” 

“Very well, father; but I assure you that 
delay — ” 

“Not a word more on the subject,” inter- 
rupted the old man, rising. 

As he silently paced the room, he cast fur- 
tive glances on his son, who was thoughtfully 
gazing at the letter before him, with his head 
leaning on his hands, and his elbows supported 
by the table. 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


99 


CHAPTER VII. 

Having contemplated the letter in silence 
for some time, without recognizing the writing, 
Louis mechanically tore it open, while old 
Richard still continued his tireless pacing, 
closely observing his every movement. 

Suddenly he saw him turn ghastly pale, 
brush his hand over his brow, as if to assure 
himself he was not the victim of an illusion, 
then read the letter once more, with ever- 
growing anguish expressed on his features. 

The letter, written that morning by old 
Richard, in a disguised hand, ran as follows: 
“Monsieur Louis: 

“I take advantage of your absence to make 
a confession which I have postponed for two 
whole months, because I feared to cause you 
grief. We must renounce our projects of 
marriage and never see each other again. 

“ I cannot explain the cause of this change; 
but, believe me, my resolution is well taken. 


100 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


If I have waited until this day, the sixth of 
May , to tell you this, it was because I wanted 
ample time for reflection before announcing my 
determination. 

“Farewell, Monsieur Louis; do not try to 
see me ; it would be useless and cause us need- 
less pain. If, on the contrary, you forget me 
entirely and make no attempt to see me, my 
happiness, as well as that of my god-mother 
will be assured. 

“It is therefore in the name of our 
happiness and tranquillity that I ask you not 
to seek me. 

“You possess such a kind heart that I am 
sure you will make no attempt to grieve me, 
by insisting on an explanation. I swear that 
all is over between us and that I love you as 
a friend only. Mariette Moreau.” 

“ P. S. Instead of sending this letter to 
Dreux, as you instructed me to do, I address it 
to Paris, that you may find it on your return. 
Augustine has gone to the country, so another 
person writes this for me. 

“I have forgotten to say that my god- 
mother’s condition is still the same.” 

The reading of this letter plunged Louis 
into a hopeless stupor. The ingenuity of the 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


101 


style, the correctness of details, the emphasis 
on the date, all convinced him that the lines 
must have been dictated by Mariette. Having 
vainly tried to understand the cause of this 
abrupt rupture, he felt his heart invaded with 
mingled grief, anger, resentment, and a deep 
sentiment of wounded pride. 

“ Indeed, I shall never attempt to see her 
again,” he murmured, unconscious that he 
spoke aloud. “She has no need to insist on 
that point with so much obstinacy ! ” 

These words were a relief to the old man, 
who was closely watching the effects of his 
stratagem, while apparently absorbed in his 
own reflections. 

But grief soon took the ascendancy over 
anger in the young man’s heart, and his love 
re-awakened more tender and more passionate 
than ever; he tried to recall the most trifling 
details of his last interview with Mariette, 
questioned his memory in regard to the last 
few months of their friendship, but could find 
no trace of growing coldness in their relations. 
The young girl, on the contrary had never 
seemed more loving, more devoted, or more 


102 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


impatient to unite her life to liis. And all 
these appearances had lied; Mariette was a 
monster of deceit — she whom he had always 
believed so pure and candid! 

No, he could not accept, this in silence! 
He could no longer endure such anguish, with- 
out making one effort to unveil the mystery 
that surrounded Mariette’ s conduct! The 
atmosphere of the room stifled him, and he re- 
solved to seek the girl at once and force an 
explanation from her lips, even at the risk of 
prejudicing his cause with Mariette’ s god- 
mother, who was also in ignorance of their 
love. 

Alarmed at the varied emotions reflected 
on his son’s face, old Richard thought it time 
to interfere. 

My dear Louis,” he said, closely scrutin- 
izing the young man’s troubled face, “ I be- 
lieve we had better start for Dreux early to- 
morrow morning, thereby anticipating Ramon’s 
visit to us by twenty-four hours.” 

“ Father! ” began Louis, in protestation. 

“ It will not compromise you, in the 
least, my son, and if you are resolved to deny 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


103 


me the dearest wish of my life, all I ask, as a 
last satisfaction, is to spend a few days with 
Ramon and his daughter. You shall then be 
free to act as you please.” Then seeing Louis 
take up his hat, he asked anxiously: “ Where 
are you going?” 

“ My head aches, and I am going out for a 
whiff of fresh air,” replied the young man. 

“In mercy don’t go out, my boy!” cried 
the old man, with growing alarm. “ You look 
gloomy and out of sorts since you read that 
letter. Really, you frighten me!” 

“You are mistaken. The letter was abso- 
lutely insignificant, I assure you,” returned 
Louis, closing the door behind him. 

As he was rushing out, however, the con- 
cierge hailed him and invited him to enter the 
lodge. 

“What is it? ” asked Louis, struck by the 
man’s mysterious air. 

“ Here is a card left for you by a decorated 
gentleman,” explained the concierge. “ He 
came in an elegant carriage, and said this was 
urgent.” 


104 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


Taking the card, Louis approached the light 
and read: 

“ Commander de La Miraudi&re , 

“ 17 Rue du Mont-Blanc. 

“ Will expect M. Louis Richard at my 
home , between nine and ten o'clock to-morrow 
morning , to communicate something of grave 
importance , which admits of no delay." 

“ Commander de La Miraudi^re? I never 
heard the name,” said Louis, gazing curiously 
at the card; then, as he mechanically turned it 
over, his eyes caught sight of these words in 
pencil : 

“ Mariette Moreau , with Madame Lacombe , 
Rue des PrBtres-Saint- Germain- 1 ’ A uxerrois. ’ ’ 

The commander had noted Mariette’s ad- 
dress on the back of his card, and uncon- 
sciously used the same in writing to Louis to 
request an interview. 

Much astonished and perplexed, the young 
man vainly asked himself what relation could 
exist between this stranger, whose card he 
held, and Mariette. 

“ Did the gentleman leave any other mes- 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


105 


sage? ” lie asked the concierge. “ Did he say 
anything? ” 

“ Nothing, except that I was to give you 
the card without your father’s knowledge.” 

“ Strange,” murmured the young man. 

“ He even gave me forty sous, to make sure 
I would do the errand.” 

“ Was he young or old?” ' 

“ A very handsome man, wearing the ribbon, 
with a mustache and side-whiskers black as 
ink, and dressed like a prince, not counting 
his elegant cabriolet.” 

Louis went out more perplexed than ever. 
This new incident redoubled his anguish; by 
dint of seeking Mariette’s motive for this 
abrupt rupture, he was beginning to feel the 
sharp pangs of jealousy. Once under this in- 
fluence, the wildest suspicions and most chimer- 
ical fears assumed the appearance of reality 
to his eyes; and he finally asked himself if this 
stranger might not be a rival. How else was 
he to explain Mariette’s relations with a young 
and handsome young man ? 

In her letter to him, Mariette begged him 
not to seek her, as it might compromise her 


106 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


own and her god-mother’s happiness. He well 
knew the wretched position of the two women, 
and Mariette had often confided to him the 
trials she was forced to endure through her 
god-mother’s gloomy and harsh character. A 
horrible thought now flashed through his head. 
Had not Mariette, perhaps, been driven by 
misery and the threats of her god-mother to 
listen to the brilliant propositions of this man, 
whose card he now held in his hand? But, in 
that case, why should this stranger request an 
interview? The mystery seemed as impene- 
trable as ever. 

Once launched in the dizzy path of jeal- 
ousy, lovers invariably give full sway to their 
imaginations and entertain the wildest ideas. 
Louis was no exception to the rule. In sup- 
posing himself supplanted by a rival, he found 
the key to what seemed inexplicable in Mari- 
ette’ s letter and in her conduct. He therefore 
tenaciously clung to the belief of her infidelity, 
longing for the moment when he might de- 
mand an explanation from this audacious com- 
mander. 

He now abandoned his first resolution of 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


107 


seeing Mariette, and retraced liis steps home- 
ward in a state of deep agitation and painful 
excitement. It was midnight when he again 
entered their dreary room. His father was 
anxiously waiting for him; but one glance at 
his son’s gloomy countenance reassured the 
old man. Feeling certain that the lovers had 
not met and that his stratagem was still undis- 
covered, he again proposed a visit to Dreux on 
the following day; but Louis threw himself 
dejectedly on his bed, declaring he must have 
time for reflection before taking such a grave 
step. 

After a night of sleepless agony, the young 
man rose at dawn and quietly slipped out of 
the room, glad to escape his father’s question- 
ing for a few hours. With his mind tortured 
by anxiety and misgivings, he turned toward 
the boulevard to await the hour fixed for his 
interview with Commander de La Miraudi&re. 


108 


A CAUDINAL SIN. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

Enveloped in a magnificent dressing gown, 
his feet encased in embroidered slippers, and a 
fragrant cigar between his lips, Commander de 
La MiraudiSre was quietly seated at his desk, 
with a stack of notes and papers before him, 
when a servant entered and announced: “M. 
Richard.” 

“ Usher M. Richard into the drawing-room, 
and beg him to wait a moment,” he said, rising 
quickly. “You may bring him in when I 
ring.” 

The servant withdrew, while his master 
opened a drawer in the safe near by, took out 
twenty-five notes of a thousand francs each, 
and, placing them beside a sheet of stamped 
paper used in making out deeds, rang the bell. 

Louis Richard entered, looking gloomy and 
confused. His heart throbbed violently at the 
thought that he was perhaps standing in the 
presence of a happy rival, and like all sincere 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


109 


and candid lovers, lie greatly exaggerated the 
advantages possessed by the man whom he 
believed had supplanted him in the heart of 
the woman he loved. This Commander de La 
Miraudi&re, draped in his superb damask gown, 
and occupying magnificent apartments, seemed 
a most formidable rival, indeed, to poor, mod- 
est Louis Richard. 

“ Have I the honor of addressing Monsieur 
Louis Richard ? ” said M. de La Miraudi&re, 
with liis most gracious smile 

“ Yes, monsieur,” replied Louis, simply. 

“Only son of M. Richard, public scribe?” 

“ My father is a public scribe,” returned 
the young man dryly, believing he detected a 
slight tone of sarcasm in the last words. 

“ Pardon me for disturbing you,” continued 
the commander, “ but it was necessary that I 
should see you alone. As a private interview 
seemed impossible in your own home, I re- 
quested you to come to me.” 

“ And now that I am here, may I inquire 
what your wishes are?” 

“My only wish is to serve you, my dear 


110 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


sir, for I would be only too liappy to class you 
as my client.” 

“I! — your client ? But who are you, mon- 
sieur?” 

“ An old soldier, retired commander, twenty 
campaigns, ten wounds, and a business man, 
to while away the hours. I hob-nob with the 
big capitalists, and frequently serve as inter- 
mediary between them and the sons of good 
families.” 

“Keally, I fail to see what service you can 
render me.” 

“ What service, my young friend ! — permit 
an old trooper to give you that title — you ask 
what service I can render you, a poor notary 
clerk! You vegetate, you share a wretched 
attic room with your father, and you are 
dressed — heaven knows how! ” 

“Monsieur!” cried Louis, flushing with 
indignation. 

“My dear young friend, these are facts 
which I state with regret, with indignation, 
almost. The devil! a young man like you 
should spend twenty-five to thirty thousand 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


Ill 


francs per annum, have liorses and mistresses, 
and enjoy the luxuries of life! ” 

“Is this a jest, monsieur?” asked Louis, 
haughtily. “ If so, I warn you that I am not 
in the humor to endure it.” 

“Being an old soldier, my young friend, I 
have already proved my bravery and valor on 
scores of occasions,” remarked M. de La Mirau- 
di&re, boastfully, “and I can therefore allow 
your hasty words to pass unnoticed. More- 
over, I admit that what I have said must sound 
very extraordinary to you.” 

“ Most extraordinary, indeed! ” 

“ Here is something that will convince you 
that I am speaking seriously, my young friend,” 
went on the braggart, designating the bills 
before him. “ Here are twenty-five thousand 
francs, which I will be most happy to place at 
your disposition, that you may establish your- 
self as a young man of good family; further- 
more, you may draw on me for two thousand 
five hundred francs each month. I offer you 
these advances for five years; we shall count 
up later.” 


112 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


Louis was gazing at liim in consternation, 
unable to believe his senses. 

“You make that offer to me?” he queried, 
rousing himself from his stupefaction. 

“Yes, and I am most happy to make it.” 

“To me? — Louis Eichard?” 

“ To you, Louis Eichard.” 

“ Eichard is a common name, monsieur ; you 
must take me for some one else.” 

“Not at all! I know whom I am address- 
ing; Louis Desire Eichard, only son of Alex- 
ander Timoleon Benedict Eichard, aged sixty - 
seven years, born at Brie-Comte-Eobert, dom- 
iciled at 23 Eue de Grenelle, public scribe by 
profession. As you see, there is no error, my 
young friend.” 

“ If you know my family so well, monsieur, 
you must be aware that my poverty does not 
permit me to contract such a loan.” 

“Your poverty? — poor boy! ” 

“ But—” 

“This is abominable, a veritable outrage!” 
cried the business man in a tone of righteous 
indignation; “to bring up a young man in 
such error! to condemn him to spend the 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


113 


brightest years of his life in slavery ! to reduce 
him to a shabby coat, blue stockings and laced 
shoes! But, happily — there is a Providence, 
and that Providence you see in me, my young 
friend. It appears to you under the features 
of Commander de La Miraudi&re ! ” 

“I am weary of this by-pl ay, monsieur,” re- 
turned Louis, impatiently. “ Pray explain 
yourself clearly, or I shall go.” 

“Very well! — You believe your father to 
be almost in want, do you not?” 

“I am not ashamed of our poverty — ” 
“Oh! candid young man!” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Listen, and you will then bless me as 
your, saviour forever after.” 

Opening a voluminous register, he read the 
following statement : 

“ Record of personal property of Alexandre Timoleon 
Benedict Richard (information taken by Credit Com- 
mittee of the Bank of France, May 1, 18—.) 

Three thousand, nine hundred and twenty 
shares in the Bank of France (actual value) 924,300 f rs. 


Bonds of the Mont-de-Piet^.- 875,250 frs. 

Deposit in Bank of France 259,130 frs. 


Total „ — - 2,058,680 frs.’’ 

8 


114 


CARDINAL SIN. 


“ As you see, my innocent young friend,” 
continued the pompous commander, “the 
known personal property of your esteemed and 
honorable father amounts to two millions, 
fifty-eight thousand, six hundred and eighty 
francs, according to official statistics. But 
everything leads us to believe that, like all 
misers, your worthy father has a good round 
lump of gold hidden somewhere. But even 
placing things at their lowest, you see that the 
author of your being possesses over two mill- 
ions, at least. As his income is about a hun- 
dred thousand livres per annum, and he does 
not spend twelve hundred francs, you shall 
enjoy a very large fortune some day; you 
can, therefore, feel no astonishment at my 
offer.” 

This revelation paralyzed the young man 
with amazement. A thousand confused thoughts 
struggled in his mind, and he stared at his 
companion stupidly, unable to utter a word. 

“ You are quite dazed, my young friend,” 
pursued the commander. “ I suppose you 
imagine you must be dreaming!” 

“Indeed, I scarcely know whether to be- 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


115 


lieve you or not,” said Louis, still sadly be- 
wildered. 

“ Do as Saint Thomas did, my young friend: 
touch these twenty-five thousand franc notes; 
it will give you faith. The capitalists whom I 
represent, are not men who throw away money ; 
and here, I may add, that they make these 
advances at the rate of eight per cent, the com- 
mission for my obliging services being seven 
per cent. more. You are too much of a gen- 
tleman to bargain over such trifles; besides, 
both capital and interest will barely reach 
half your father’s yearly income. Even while 
spending at the rate of fifty thousand francs 
per annum, you will be economizing; yet, it 
will enable you to await the supreme hour 
patiently — I mean the hour when the old man 
— you understand! Moreover, as the said old 
man might be astonished at your high 
way of living, I have thought of a most in- 
genious explanation. You will hold a ticket 
in a lottery and presumably draw the capital 
prize, a diamond which you will sell for eight 
or nine thouaand francs. This you will be 
supposed to have entrusted to a friend who, 


116 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


in liis turn, invested the money in a magnifi- 
cent enterprise, paying three hundred per 
cent, per annum. Thanks to this stratagem, 
you can spend your twenty-five to thirty 
thousand francs right under the paternal 
nose without awakening any suspicions. Now, 
young man, was I presumptuous in affecting 
providential airs toward you? But why this 
gloom and silence? I, who expected you to 
burst with delight, to shout with joy, to cut 
capers, and give vent to many other manifes- 
tations totally excusable in the first moments 
of rejoicing over your sudden transformation 
from a poor notary clerk into a millionaire! 
Why don’t you answer me? Heavens! I fear 
his sudden happiness has bereft him of his 
senses! ” 

This revelation, which would doubtless 
have thrown anyone else into a state of delir- 
ious joy, caused the most painful emotion to 
Louis Bicliard. To begin with, the long dis- 
simulation and distrust shown by his father 
in leaving him in ignorance of his wealth, 
wounded him to the heart ; and then — this was 
the most cruel thought to him — he remem- 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


117 


bered that he could never share these riches 
with Marietta; that by her heartless desertion 
she had deprived him of the pleasure of chang- 
ing her wretched, joyless existence into a life 
of luxury and happiness. 

This reflection revived his bitter grief ; and, 
forgetting everything but the explanation he 
had sworn to demand from this man before 
him, he drew the offending visiting card from 
his pocket, saying haughtily: 

“You left this card for me at my home, 
monsieur? ” 

“Certainly, my young friend, but — ” 

“ Can you explain, monsieur, how the name 
and address of Mademoiselle Mariette Moreau 
came to be scribbled on it ? ” continued Louis, 
glaring at him. 

“What!” exclaimed the amazed comman- 
der. 

“ I wish to know how Mademoiselle Mari- 
ette Moreau’s address comes to be on this 
card!” repeated Louis coldly. 

“ The devil! he must have lost his senses! ” 
said the usurer. “ My dear young fellow, I 
speak to you of millions, of thirty thousand 


118 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


francs yearly, and you answer by speaking 
of — grisettes! ” 

“ When I ask a question, monsieur,” thun- 
dered Louis, “I expect a reply!” 

“And you assume such a tone with me, my 
young friend!” 

“ If my tone does not suit you, I cannot 
help it.” 

“The deuce, my young fellow!” cried the 
usurer, fiercely. “But, bah!” he added, twirl- 
ing his black moustache caressingly between 
his fingers, “ I have proved my bravery scores 
of times — I, an old soldier, perforated with 
bullets, can pass such words unnoticed. My 
dear client, the name and address of that little 
girl were found on my card, because I wrote 
them down that I might not forget where to 
find her.” 

“You know Mademoiselle Mariette then?” 

“ Most assuredly! ” 

“ You court her? ” 

“ Once in a while.” 

“ And you hope ? — ’ 

“ Much.” 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


119 


“ Monsieur, I forbid you to ever set foot in 
her home again ! ” 

“So I have found a rival! ” said the usurer 
to himself. “Ah! I now understand the girl’s 
refusal. I must sound him, drive him to 
jealousy, push him into a trap. The girl is 
worth having, and I must check this passionate 
youth.” 

“ My dear sir,” he asked aloud, “ when I 
am forbidden to do a thing, I consider it my 
first duty to do that very thing.” 

“ That remains to be seen!” 

“Listen, young man; I have fought fifty- 
seven duels, and can therefore dispense with 
the fifty-eighth. I prefer to reason with you. 
Allow me one question: You have just re- 
turned from a journey?” 

“ I have.” 

“ You were absent several days, and have 
not seen Mariette since your return ? ” 

“But — ” 

“ My dear young friend, you only share the 
lot of many others. Mariette knows nothing 
of your wealth ; so when I offered her enough 
to turn the head of any starved working girl, 


120 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


she accepted with delight. Her godmother, 
who is also half starved, has a natural inclina- 
tion for the luxuries of this life, and as the ab- 
sent ones are always in the wrong — you un- 
derstand — ” 

“Oh, my God! is it true then!” moaned 
Louis piteously, his wrath giving way to hope- 
less despair. 

“ Had I known I was entering in competi- 
tion with a future client I would have aband- 
oned the game,” resumed the usurer; “ but it 
is too late now. Besides, my young friend, 
there is nothing to cry about. This girl was 
much too inexperienced for you; you would 
have had to form her, while there are many 
charming women ready to drop in your arms. 
I would particularly recommend a certain 
Madame de Saint-Hildebrande — ” 

“ Wretch! ” cried Louis indignantly, grasp- 
ing him by the collar and shaking him vigor- 
ously. “You miserable scoundrel ! ” 

“ Sir, you will give me satisfaction for 
this — !” gasped the enraged commander. 

The door opened abruptly and the two ad- 
versaries turned their heads simultaneously as 



4 


YOU MISERABLE SCOUNDREL!” 






















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4 



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A CARDINAL SIN. 


121 


a gay burst of laughter rang through the 
room. 

“ Saint-Herem! ” exclaimed Louis, recog- 
nizing his old friend. 

“You here!” cried Florestan de Saint- 
Herem, grasping the young man’s hand and 
gazing curiously into his pale face. 

“May the devil take him for coming in at 
this moment!” muttered the usurer between 
his clenched teeth, as he readjusted the collar 
of his dressing-gown. 


122 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


CHAPTEE IX. 

Flores tan de Saint-Herem was a man of 
thirty, at the most, with handsome features 
and a commanding, elegant figure. His phys- 
iognomy expressed both intelligence and wit, 
but often wore a mask of supercilious imperti- 
nence when addressing persons of the same 
stamp as the usurer. 

The first moment of surprise and greeting 
over, the actors in the foregoing scene resumed 
their antagonistic attitude toward each other. 
Louis, still pale with indignation, glared at his 
adversary fiercely, while the latter faced him 
defiantly. 

“To dare raise a hand on me! — an old 
soldier ! ” cried the commander, advancing 
threateningly toward Louis. “ This will not 
pass unpunished, Monsieur Richard!” 

“ As you wish, Monsieur de La Miraudi&re,” 
returned Louis. 

“Monsieur de La Miraudi^re!” repeated 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


123 


Florestan, with a sarcastic laugh. “ What! do 
you take this fellow seriously, my good Louis ? 
Do you believe in his military title, his cross, 
his campaigns, his wounds, his duels, and his 
sonorous name of de La Miraudi&re?” 

“Your jests are entirely out of place!” 
cried the usurer, flushing angrily, “ and I will 
not endure them in my own house, Monsieur 
de Saint-Herem ! — Indeed I will not, my dear 
fellow.” 

“ His name is J6rome Porquin, my dear 
Louis,” sneered Saint-Herem, “and it seems 
admirably chosen, does it not ? ” Then, turn- 
ing to the crushed usurer, he added in a tone 
that admitted of no retort: “ Monsieur Porquin, 
this is the second time I am forced to forbid 
you to address me as “ your dear fellow .” 
With me it is a different matter ; I have bought 
and paid for the right of calling you my dear , 
my enormously dear , my too dear Monsieur 
Porquin, for you have swindled me outrageous- 
ly and cost me a good round sum ! ” 

“Sir, I will not suffer this!” cried the 
wrathful usurer. 

“ Whence comes this timid sensitiveness on 


124 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


the part of M. Porquin?” asked Florestan, 
derisively. “What has happened? Ah! I 
see. This dear M. Porquin does not enjoy 
having his lies and vain pretentions unmasked 
in your presence, Louis. Well, I will tell you 
who M. de La Miraudi&re really is. He once 
served the rations in the army, and in that 
capacity went to Madrid during the last war. 
This is the only service he has ever seen, and 
he was discharged from that for dishonesty. 
He has never fought a duel for, to begin with, 
he is too cowardly, and then he knows well 
that a gentleman would receive a challenge 
from him with contempt; and if driven to 
extremities by his insolence, he would simply 
teach him a lesson with his walking-stick.” 

“When you stand in need of me you treat 
me with more delicacy!” sneered the usurer. 

“When I need your services I pay for 
them ; and as I know your unscrupulous char- 
acter, it is my duty to warn M. Bichard, whose 
friend I have the honor to be. You are doubt- 
less trying to entice him into your net.” 

“Ah! this is the reward I get for my ser- 
vices! ” cried M. Porquin, bitterly. “ I reveal 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


125 


a secret of the highest importance to your 
friend, and — ” 

“ I now understand your object in coming 
to me,” interrupted Louis, dryly. “ I owe you 
no thanks for the service you have rendered 
me — if it is a service,” he concluded sadly 

The usurer had no intention of giving up 
his prey without a struggle, however, and 
turning to Florestan, with the same ease as if 
they had been on the most friendly terms, he 
said conciliatingly : 

“ M. Louis Richard can tell you what con- 
ditions I proposed and under what circum- 
stances I made him this offer; you will then 
be better able to judge if my demands were 
exorbitant. Furthermore, if I disturb you in 
your conversation, gentlemen, you may enter 
the drawing-room. If M. Richard wishes to 
consult you on the subject, I shall await his 
decision here.” 

“This is the most intelligent phrase you 
have uttered yet,” returned Saint-Herem, tak- 
ing Louis’ arm to lead him into the adjoining 
room. “And when we get through, I shall 
tell you the object of my visit. Or, rather, I 


126 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


will tell you now. I must have two hundred 
louis this evening. Here are the securities; 
examine them at your leisure.” 

Drawing a bundle of papers from his 
pocket, he tossed them carelessly toward the 
usurer and left the room with his friend. 

The haughty brutality with which Florestan 
had unmasked Porquin had proved a new blow 
to Louis Richard. The thought that Mariette 
had sacrificed him for such a wretch, filled his 
heart with bitterness and resentment, and, un- 
able to control his emotion longer, he burst 
into tears the moment he found himself alone 
with his friend. 

“Ah! Florestan, I am unhappy!” he 
sobbed, as he clasped his companion’s hand. 

“ I have no doubt of it, my poor Louis,” 
said Saint-Herem sympathizingly, “ for to 
place yourself in the clutches of such a rascal 
as Parquin, is to sell yourself to the devil! 
But tell me what has happened? You have 
always been good and industrious, I know, but 
you may have contracted some debt or com- 
mitted some slight folly. What may seem 
enormous to you, may be only a trifle to me. 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


127 


I shall receive two hundred louis from this 
Arab to-night ; you have but to say the word 
and they are yours. I can turn to someone 
else! Two hundred louis ought to cover the 
debts of a notary clerk — come, must you have 
more ? Then we shall raise more ; but in 
heaven’s name don’t put yourself in the toils 
of this scoundrel!” 

This generous offer filled Louis’ heart with 
such sweet consolation that for the moment he 
forgot his sorrows. 

“My dear Florestan,” he said gratefully, 
“ you cannot imagine how this proof of friend- 
ship on your part comforts and consoles me.” 

“You accept, then?” 

“No.” 

“What?” 

“ I have no need of your good services. 
This usurer, who was a total stranger to me, 
wrote to me requesting an interview; and he 
offers to lend me more money in one year than 
I have spent in all my life.” 

“He offers you that! Why, the rascal 
never advances a sou without the best securi- 
ties. People of his stamp consider neither 


128 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


honor, probity, nor industry; and I was not 
aware that you had expectations.” 

“You are mistaken, Florestan; my father is 
worth over two millions.” 

“Your father!” exclaimed Saint-Herem in 
amazement. “ Your father rich! ” 

“ This usurer discovered his secret; how, I 
cannot say.” 

“And so lie offered his services. Well, 
you may be sure his information is correct, for 
he advances nothing on doubtful security.” 

“I believe it,” rejoined Louis sadly. 

“ My dear Louis, one might think you had 
made some unfortunate discovery. What is it ? 
Are you unhappy ? — and why, pray ? ” 

“Ah! my friend, don’t scoff at me. I love, 
and have been deceived.” 

“You have a rival ? ” 

“ And that rival is this wretch! ” 

“ Porquin ? — nonsense; what makes you 
imagine such an absurdity ? ” 

“ I had some suspicions, and then he assured 
me he had been accepted.” 

“A fine authority, upon my word! He lies, 
I am sure of it.” 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


129 


✓ 


“He is rich, Florestan; and the woman I 
loved and still love in spite of myself, is poor. 
She has endured the most cruel misery for 
years.” 

“The devil!” f 

“ Besides this, she is the only support of a 
crippled old woman. This man’s offers dazzled 
the poor child; and like so many others, she 
succumbed through misery. What good is a 
fortune now, when my only desire was to share 
it with Mariette? ” 

“ My dear Louis, I know you too well to be- 
lieve you could have loved a woman unworthy 
of your affections.” 

“ For a whole year Mariette gave me 
abundant proofs of a sincere affection; then 
yesterday, without warning, a letter came 
announcing the sudden rupture — ” 

“ A woman who loved a poor man like you 
for a whole year, does not yield to an old ras- 
cal like Porquin in one day. I tell you he lies !” 
And to Louis’ great astonishment, Saint-Herem 
called aloud, “Hi, there! de la Miraudikre!” 

“Florestan! what are you doing?” remon- 
strated Louis, as the usurer appeared. 

9 




130 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


“Monsieur de La Miraudi&re,” observed 
Saint-Herem, with his habitual supercilious 
air, “ there seems to exist some slight confu- 
sion in jour mind in regard to a respectable 
young girl, who, according to you, has been 
seduced by your wit, your personal charms and 
excellent manners, still more enclianced by 
that gold which you so honorably grasp. Now, 
my worthy commander, will you do me the 
pleasure to speak the truth ? If not, I shall 
know how to deal with you.” 

“ I deeply regret having jested on a subject 
which seems to annoy M. Richard,” responded 
Porquin, deeming it better policy to sacrifice a 
fancy which stood little chance of being grati- 
fied, than to run the risk of losing so promis- 
ing a client as Louis. 

“You ma} r perhaps be able to explain how 
the idea of this jest — which, by the way, I 
should call a base calumny — entered your 
head ? ” pursued Florestan. 

“Nothing more simple, monsieur: I saw 
Mademoiselle Mariette Moreau in the work- 
shop, and was struck with her beauty. I then 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


131 


procured lier address, visited her home, where 
I found her godmother, and proposed — ” 

“Enough, sir! enough!” cried Louis in- 
dignantly. 

“ Permit me to add, my dear client,” re- 
sumed Porquin, imperturbably, “ that the said 
godmother refused my offers point-blank, and 
that Mademoiselle Mariette indignantly showed 
me the door. As you see, I am perfectly 
frank, and hope this sincere avowal will win 
me the confidence of M. Richard, who will not 
fail to accept my services. As for you, Mon- 
sieur de Saint-Herem, I have examined your 
securities and will place the two hundred louts 
in your hands this evening — and now that you 
have learned the conditions I have proposed 
to your friend, I am sure you must consider 
them reasonable.” 

“ I don’t want your money,” cried Louis. 
“ Do you believe me capable of discounting 
my father’s death?” 

“ But, my dear client, allow me — ” 

“ Come, Florestan, let us go,” interrupted 
Louis, “ this room stifles me.” 

“My dear Porquin,” remarked Saint-Herem, 


132 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


as lie followed liis friend to the door, “ as you 
see, there are still honest sons and daughters 
living. I will not say : ‘ May this serve you 

as a lesson or an example,’ for you are too old 
a sinner to reform ; but I sincerely hope this 
double disappointment will prove a most dis- 
agreeable pill to swallow.” 

££ Ah! my dear friend, you have relieved me 
of a cruel doubt,” said Louis, gratefully, when 
they had reached the street. “ I am now cer- 
tain that Mariette never lowered herself to this 
wretch — but the fact still remains that she 
has broken our engagement.” 

“Did she tell you so?” 

“ She has written or, rather, made some- 
one else write.” 

“ Made someone else write?” 

“Ah! you will laugh at me — the poor girl 
I love can neither read nor write.” 

“ What a happy mortal you are! You are 
spared the lengthy epistles I am forced to en- 
dure from a little shop girl whom I have 
robbed from a jealous banker. I amuse my- 
self by making her the rage, and enjoy the 
jxior creature’s ecstasies immensely! It is 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


133 


so delightful to make others happy. Her 
grammar is outrageous, however. Ah! my 
friend, what orthography! it is of the ante- 
diluvian, innocent style; such as Mother Eve 
must have used — but if your Mariette cannot 
write, who knows but her secretary maj have 
misinterpreted her thoughts?” 

“With what object? ” 

“ I don’t know. But why not have an ex- 
planation with her ? ” 

“ She has begged me, in the name of her 
future happiness, not to see her again. ” 

“Well, now that you are a prospective 
millionaire, I would advise you to see her in 
the name of that very future happiness.” 

“You are right, Florestan; I shall see her, 
and if this cruel mystery can be explained, if 
I find her as in the past, affectionate and de- 
voted, what bliss shall be mine! Poor child, 
her life has been one of work and misery; but 
she will now find comfort and rest, for my 
father shall consent, and — Ah! my God! — ” 

“What is it?” asked Florestan, anxiously. 

“I have forgotten to tell you that my 
father wishes me to marry your cousin.” 


134 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


» 


“ What cousin? ” 

“Mademoiselle Ramon.” 

“ You don’t mean it? ” 

“ I have just returned from Dreux, where I 
met her; and I must admit that, even if I 
were not in love with Mariette, I could never 
marry such a woman — ” 

“My uncle must be still wealthy, then, 
though he announced his ruin many years 
ago,” interrupted Saint-Herem. “ It is evident 
that a marriage with my cousin would be ad- 
vantageous to you, or your father would never 
propose it, believe me.” 

“ My father explained our poverty in the 
same way ; he pretended to have lost his 
money many years ago ” 

“Ah, my worthy uncle, I knew you to be 
disagreeable and unendurable!” resumed 
Florestan; “but I did not believe you capable 
of such superiority of conception ; from this 
day I esteem and venerate you. I am not 
your heir, it is true; but the thought of a 
millionaire uncle is a pleasant one, neverthe- 
less. In moments of trouble we dream of 
him, we form all sorts of affectionate liypoth- 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


135 


eses, even revel in thoughts of apoplexy 
and long for cholera, that Providence of im- 
pecunious heirs, which appears like a good 
fairy, robed in rosy hues.” 

“ My dear Florestan,” laughed Louis, 
“ though I wish no one harm, I admit that I 
would be glad to see your uncle’s fortune fall 
into your hands instead of going to his de- 
testable daughter. You would know how to 
enjoy the money at least; and, with such 
wealth, I am sure you would — ” 

“ Contract debts, my dear fellow,” inter- 
rupted his friend, majestically. 

“What! with that immense fortune — ” 

“ I would most assuredly contract debts, I 
tell you.” 

“With two or three millions?” 

“ With ten, or twenty millions! My system 
is similar to that of the State: the higher the 
debt of a country, the higher stands her credit ; 
therefore, what is credit? — wealth! This is 
elementary, not counting that it involves a 
high question of moral philosophy. But I 
shall explain my financial and philosophical 
ideas on a more favorable occasion. Go to 


136 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


Mariette, and report to me later. As for me, 
I have promised to take my little sliop-girl out 
on a new saddle-horse which, by the way, cost 
me an outrageous price. Now don’t fail to 
come or write to me; whatever happens, 1 want 
to share your joy or sorrow. But jump in and 
let me take you there.” 

“Thank you, I prefer to walk; it will give 
me time to think over all that has happened 
and what attitude I should assume toward my 
father, in view of this singular revelation.” 

“ Good-bye, then, my dear Louis; don’t for- 
get that I shall expect you before the day is 
over,” said Saint-Herem, jumping into his 
brougham, while Louis turned toward Mari- 
ette’s home. 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


137 


CHAPTER X. 

A sad picture met the young man’s eyes, as 
he paused for a moment on the threshold of 
the room occupied by Mariette and her god- 
mother. Lying on a thin mattress in a corner 
of the room was the young girl, seemingly un- 
conscious; her features were of a deathly pal- 
lor and painfully contracted, and traces of 
abundant tears stained her marble cheeks; one 
hand lay listlessly at her side, while in the 
other she convulsively clutched the envelope 
containing the debris of Louis’ letter. Kneel- 
ing by the bedside, her harsh, sarcastic fea- 
tures softened by an expression of touching 
grief and cruel anxiety, Mme. Lacombe was 
supporting Mariette’s head with her mutilated 
arm, while with the other hand she was en- 
deavoring to force a few drops of water 
through the livid lips. 

At the sight of a stranger standing in the 
doorway, however, her features resumed their 


138 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


habitual expression of harshness and morose- 
ness. 

“ What do you want?” she asked roughly. 
“Why do you come in without rapping at the 
door ? — I don’t know you ! — who are you ? ” 
Taking no notice of these many questions, 
Louis rushed to the bedside and threw him- 
self on his knees beside the unconscious girl, 
crying: “My God! what has happened? — 
Mariette, Mariette, speak to me ! ” 

“So you are Louis Richard?” exclaimed 
the old woman, her eyes flashing angrily as 
she gazed at the young man. 

“Yes; but in heaven’s name, tell me what 
has happened to Mariette ! ” 

“ You have killed her! ” 

“I — great heavens ! ” 

“ And when she is dead, you will provide 
for me, I suppose?” sneered Mme. Lacombe. 

“Dead! — Mariette dead!” gasped Louis. 
“It is impossible! — But we must summon a 
physician, do something — her hands are icy — 
Mariette ! Mariette !” he called wildly. “My 
God! my God! she does not hear me! ” 

“ And this is all the fault of that letter of 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


139 


yours, you impudent scoundrel!” interposed 
the old woman fiercely. 

“My letter? — what letter?” he asked in 
astonishment. 

“Ah, yes; you will lie about it and deny 
the whole thing now, of course! But last night 
the poor child broke down in despair and con- 
fessed the whole thing to me.” 

“But what did she have to confess?” 

“ That she loved you and you had deserted 
her for another — ” 

‘ But on the contrary I wrote to Mariette 
that — ” 

“You lie!” cried the old woman vehement- 
ly. “I tell you she read your letter; there it 
is now, clutched in her fingers! Heavens! 
what a flood of tears she shed over that rag! 
Go out of my sight, you worthless rake ! AY e 
were very stupid indeed to refuse the good 
offer made to us. Yet, I told Mariette virtue 
brought little reward in this world. And now 
she is dying, and I am out 'into the street, 
without fire or shelter, without bread or any- 
thing, for everything will go for back rent. 
Happily,” she added, with a grim smile, “ I 


140 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


have still a small measure of charcoal left — 
and charcoal is the deliverance of poor people 
from misery.” 

“ My God ! this is horrible ! ” moaned Louis, 
unable to restrain his tears. “ I swear that 
we are the victims of some terrible mistake, 
madame — Mariette! Mariette! speak tome! — 
It is I — Louis! ” 

“Do you want to kill her on the spot?” 
cried the exasperated woman, trying to push 
him away. “ If she recovers consciousness, 
the sight of you will finish her.” 

“Heaven be praised!” murmured Louis, 
resisting the woman’s efforts and bending over 
the girl. “ See, her hands are relaxing and 
her eyes opening — Mariette! it is I, Louis! do 
you hear me?” 

The girl’s eyes roamed around the room 
for a moment, then slowly turned on the young 
man, who still leaned anxiously over her. 
Soon an expression of joyful surprise spread 
itself over her pale features and she attempted 
to raise her head, supporting herself on her 
elbow. 

“Louis!” she murmured, feebly. “Ah! I 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


141 


thought I would never see you again — ” 
Then as the sad reality returned to her mind, 
she threw herself in Mme. Lacombe’s arms 
and burst into tears. 

“Ah! godmother,” she sobbed, “he comes 
to say farewejl — it is all over!” 

“ There now, didn’t I tell you this would 
finish her!” cried Mme. Lacombe, fiercely. 
“Go, I say! and never let nie see your face 
again! ” 

“ Mariette! in mercy listen to me! ” pleaded 
Louis. “I did not come to say farewell, but 
to tell you that I love you more than ever.” 

“Heavens! can it be true ?* 2 murmured the 
girl, starting up. 

“We have been the victims of some error, 
Mariette,” continued the young man. “ I have 
never ceased to love you for a single moment; 
no, never. During my absence, I had but one 
thought, one desire; it was to see you again 
and fix the day of our marriage, as I told you 
in my letter — ” 

“Your letter! ’’interrupted the girl, sadly. 
“ Have you already forgotten what you wrote, 
Louis? Here — read it.” 


U2 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


“ He can deny his own writing, of course,” 
growled Mine. Lacombe, as the young man 
hastily placed the torn pieces together; “ and 
you’ll be stupid enough to believe him.” 

“ This is what I wrote, Mariette,” said 
Louis, when he had succeeded in his difficult 
task, 

“My Dear Mariette: 

I shall be wdth you the dsty following 
the receipt of this letter. What I have suf- 
fered during this short separation proves that 
I cannot live without you. Thank God, the 
day of our union is fast approaching. To- 
morrow is the sixth of May, remember. I shall 
speak to my father the moment I reach home, 
and I am sure he will not refuse his consent. 

“ Farewell, then, until day after to-morrow, 
my darling Mariette. I love you madly, or 
wisely, rather; for I was wise to seek and find 
happiness in a heart like yours. 

“ Yours forever and ever. Louis.” 

“I write these few lines only, because I 
shall be in Paris almost as soon as my letter; 
and then, it is always painful to think that 
other eyes see what I write for you only. 
Were it not for this, how many things might I 
not say! ” 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


143 


Mariette was so astounded that slie could 
find no word to say. 

“ I cannot understand how this letter could 
have produced such a sad effect on you?” said 
Louis, much perplexed. 

“Is that really what the letter says?” 
asked the amazed girl. 

“ Certainly. Here, Madame Lacombe, read 
it,” suggested Louis, placing the fragments 
before her. 

“ You know very well that I can’t read,” 
replied the old woman, roughly. “ How is it 
that the contrary was told Mariette?” 

“Who read it for you, Mariette?” asked 
Louis. 

“ The public scribe,” she informed him. 

“A public scribe!” exclaimed the young 
man, a fearful suspicion flashing through his 
mind. “ In mercy, explain yourself! ” 

“There is very little to explain, my dear 
Louis. I went in search of a public scribe, at 
the Charnier des Innocents , and dictated a 
letter for you to a very kind old gentleman. 
He was so kind, indeed, that he only charged 
me ten sous , although he was obliged to write 


144 A CARDINAL SIN. 

it twice, having spilt the bottle of ink on the 
first copy as he was preparing to address it to 
Dreux. When I reached home again, I found 
this letter from you; then I went back to the 
public scribe — for he had shown much interest 
in me — and he read it for me. According to 
him, the letter said that we should never meet 
again; that your father’s future happiness and 
your own depended on our separation, and 
that — ” But she could say no more, and 
burst into tears. 

Louis understood it all, however, from 
the chance meeting of Mariette with his 
father, to the stratagem of the latter to deceive 
them both. This abuse of confidence over- 
whelmed him with such grief and shame, that 
he dared not admit the tie of relationship exist- 
ing between himself and the public scribe, but 
sought another plausible explanation of this 
deceit and treachery. 

“Notwithstanding his apparent good nature 
and benevolence, this old rascal must have 
been trying to amuse himself at your expense, 
my poor Mariette,” said the young man. “ He 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


145 


read you just tlie contrary of wliat I had writ- 
ten.” 

“ Oh! how could he be so cruel! ” cried the 
girl, clasping her two hands together. “ He ap- 
peared so good, and expressed his sympathy so 
kindly for poor creatures like me^ who can 
neither read nor write.” 

“ One thing is evident, my dear Mariette, 
he certainly deceived you.” 

“ But did you receive my letter at Dreux? ” 

“ It must have reached that city after I had 
left it,” he said, unwilling to admit that it had 
been addressed to Paris. “ But never mind it 
now,” he added, anxious to drop a conversation 
which pained him so deeply; “we are happy 
and — ” 

“ Yes, you are happy enough,” put in Mine. 
Lacombe, “but what about me?” 

“What do you mean, godmother?” asked 
Mariette. 

“ I mean that I will never consent to such 
a marriage,” she said harshly. 

“ But my dear madame — ” began JLouis. 

“ Tut, tut, tut, soft words won’t blind me, 
young man,” she interrupted roughly. “If 
10 


146 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


you are the son of a public writer, you are as 
penniless as Mariette; and two miseries unite’d 
in marriage are worth three single ones. My 
goddaughter has enough of me to support, 
without a troop of famished children.” 

“But, my dear godmother — ” protested 
the girl. 

“Don’t bother me!” she retorted angrily. 
“I know your plans; you simply want to rid 
yourself of me and leave me in the gutter to 
starve.” 

“How can you believe such a thing ! ’’cried 
Mariette, reproachfully, her eyes full of 
tears. 

“ Your fears are groundless, I assure you,” 
Louis hastened to say. “ I have just discov- 
ered that my father is immensely wealthy, but 
for reasons of his own, he has kept the matter 
a secret until now.” 

Mariette gazed at Louis with an air of 
mingled astonishment and delight at this unex- 
pected information. Then she smiled through 
her tears and said, with a shade of defiance in 
her gentle voice: “You see, godmother, that 
the picture is not as dark as you painted it; 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


147 


we are quite able to take care of you as well 
as ourselves.” 

“You are quite ready to fall into the trap, 
of course,” rejoined the old woman, with a 
sarcastic laugh. 

“ But, godmother — ” 

“ Don’t you see that he is inventing those 
lies to obtain my consent to your marriage — ” 
“ Madame, I swear — ” 

“And I tell you there is no truth in it; or, 
if you are rich, you don’t want Mariette. A 
rich man would never be stupid enough to 
marry a poor girl who can neither read nor 
write.” 

“ You are mistaken,” said Louis, with dig- 
nity; “the son of a rich man does not break 
the word given in his days of poverty, when 
his life’s happiness depends on that word — ” 
“Bah! mere phrases and words!” inter- 
rupted the woman sharply. “ Bicli or poor, 
you shall never have Mariette, until you have 
assured me a living. I don’t ask much; only 
six hundred francs a year; but I must have it 
in money, with a contract deposited in the 
hands of a reliable notary.” 


148 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


“All! godmother, why should you distrust 
Louis so?” protested Mariette tearfully. 

“My dear child, I know all about these 
fine promises,” declared Mme. Lacombe. “ He 
will promise anything beforehand ; then, when 
he is sure of you, out goes the old cripple. 
With you, Mariette, I have nothing to fret 
about. I may be a heavy burden, but you are 
a good girl and stand in awe of me. Once 
married, however, you will both defy me and 
throw me out of the house. What will become 
of me, then ? Is it my fault if I am a cripple ? 
No! no! I tell you there shall be no marriage 
unless an income of six hundred francs is 
placed in the hands of a notary! ” 

While giving away to these bitter recrim- 
inations, the poor creature rocked to and fro, 
looking furtively at the two young people and 
watching the effect of her words. 

“Poor Mariette,” thought Louis, “how she 
must have suffered! To think of so much af- 
fection and devotion rewarded with so much 
ingratitude ! ” 

“Madame,” he said aloud, when she had 
ceased speaking, “ you may rest assured that 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


149 


neither Mariette nor myself will ever forget 
that yon have been as a mother to her; and 
you shall always be treated with the considera- 
tion that you deserve — I swear it.” 

“ Thank you, Louis!” cried the girl grate- 
fully; “I am glad to see that you share my 
sentiments for my poor godmother, who has 
indeed been as a mother to me.” 

“ Don’t you see that he is laughing at us! ” 
exclaimed the old woman harshly. “ He has 
no intention of marrying you and giving me a 
pension, I can tell you. If he is really rich, he 
will cajole you and entice you into a trap ; then 
some fine morning, you will hear of his mar- 
riage with another woman — go, I say, and 
never set foot in this house again! ” 

“Madame,” said Louis, “I shall come with 
my father to beguile honor of Mariette’s hand 
in marriage, and will at the same time inform 
you of the advantages I shall be able to give 
you.” 

“Yes, yes, those fine propositions will come 
when I am in my grave,” she muttered, as she 
climbed into her bed and turned her face to 
the wall. 


150 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


“ It shall be no later than to-morrow,” de- 
clared Louis. “ Good-bye, Mariette. I shall 
call with my father to-morrow.” 

“ Can it really be true that, after so much 
sorrow, we should at last know happiness — 
happiness forever,” murmured the young girl, 
as Louis clasped her hand tenderly in his. 

“ Will you ever get done? you are driving 
me wild with your happiness ! ” came sharply 
from the bed. “ Go, and leave me in peace! — 
and don’t you dare to move from the room, 
Mariette! You are dying to go down with that 
gay deceiver, I know; but when I say no , I 
mean no! ” 

The young couple exchanged one last lov- 
ing glance and, with a whispered: “ Good-bye, 
my darling,” Louis was gone, while Mariette 
returned slowly to the bedside of her god- 
mother. 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


151 


CHAPTER XL 

Louis at once proceeded to liis father’s 
business place, anxious to get over the inevit- 
able explanation which had become necessary 
between them. But to his great astonishment 
and alarm, he found the door and shutters still 
closed, and was informed by the neighbors 
that the old man had not made his appearance 
that day. This break in his regular habits 
seemed so unusual and inexplicable, that the 
young man felt a vague uneasiness invading 
him as he hurried toward home, and all sorts 
of wild conjectures flashed through his mind. 
He soon reached the Rue de Grenelle, however, 
and was running up the first flight of stairs 
when the concierge called him from his 
door. 

“ Monsieur Louis,” he said, “ your father 
went out a couple of hours ago and left a letter 
for you. I was to take it to your office if you 
did not return before two o’clock.” 


152 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


The young man grasped the letter and tore 
it open. It ran thus: 

“ My dear child: 

“I have just received a few lines from 
my friend Eamon, informing me that he and 
his daughter will arrive in Paris to-day. 

“As he has never traveled in a railway 
train and anticipates much pleasure in that 
mode of conveyance, he will stop at Versailles, 
where he begs us to meet him. We shall visit 
the palace, and return together by the last 
train. 

“ I shall wait for you at the Hotel du Res- 
ervoir; but if you are late, you can join us at 
the palace. Remember, that this interview 
with Mademoiselle Ramon will compromise 
you in no way. My only desire is that you 
should take advantage of this opportunity to 
study that young person’s character and see 
the injustice of your groundless prejudices. 
You will moreover understand that, whatever 
may be your projects, it would be most un- 
gracious on your part to fail at a rendezvous 
given by one of my oldest and dearest friends. 

“ Your father, who loves you deeply, and 
whose sole desire is your happiness. 

“A. Richard.” 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


153 


Notwithstanding his habitual deference to 
the wishes of his father, Louis thought it un- 
necessary to go to Versailles and face Made- 
moiselle Ramon a second time ; so he hastened 
to his employer’s office instead, and resumed 
his usual work, undeterred by the astounding 
revelation of his father’s wealth. Owing to 
the numerous distractions caused by the vari- 
ous events of the day, however, it was late 
when he finished his day’s task and put away 
his papers. 

He had just closed his desk and was taking 
his hat from its accustomed peg, when one of 
his comrades burst into the room and cried 
excitedly: “My God! what a terrible thing ! ” 

“ What is it, ” asked the clerks in chorus. 

“ I have just met a friend on his way back 
from the Versailles station — ” 

“Versailles station!” echoed Louis, with a 
sudden start. “Well, what has happened?” 

“A frightful accident!” 

“Great Heavens!” cried Louis, turning 
deathly pale. “But go on.” 

“ The return train to Paris ran off the track, 
throwing the cars in a heap; and it is reported 


154 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


that all the passengers have either been 
crushed or burnt to death, and — ” 

But Louis stopped to hear no more. Bush- 
ing out, bareheaded as he was, he dashed down 
the street to the first corner, where he leaped 
into a cab, crying: “Twenty francs if you 
take me to the Versailles station at breakneck 
speed — and from there somewhere else — I 
don’t know where; but in mercy, go! ” 

“ Which side of the river, monsieur,” asked 
the coachman, as he lashed his horse. 

“ What do you mean?” 

“There are two stations. One on the right, 
the other on the left bank.” 

“ I want to go where that terrible accident 
occurred.” 

“ This is the first I hear of it, monsieur.” 

Louis was forced to return to the office for 
information; but he found the place already 
deserted, and returned to the cab in despair. 

“ I have just learned it was on the left 
bank,” the coachman informed him from his 
seat. 

“ To the left bank then! ” he ordered, sink- 
ing back on the cushions with a moan. 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


155 


There he learned that the sad news was 
unfortunately but too true, and was directed 
how to reach the scene of the accident. 

It was nightfall when he finally reached 
Bas-Meudon; and, guided by the flames of the 
burning debris, he soon found himself on the 
sinister spot, where he spent the night in a 
fruitless search for the charred remains of his 
father among the mass of crushed and burnt 
flesh piled on the roadside or pinioned in the 
wreck. Worn out in body and spirits, he 
returned to Paris at dawn, hoping his father 
might have been one of the small number that 
had escaped with slight injuries. 

“ Has my father returned ? ” were his first 
words to the concierge. 

“ No, monsieur Louis,” replied the man. 

“ There is no doubt possible then — he 
perished in the accident, ” he moaned, sinking 
into a chair and bursting into sobs. 

In a few moments he had recovered his 
self-possession however ; and, without stopping 
to hear the concierge’s words of condolence, he 
slowly ascended to the fifth landing and 
entered the dreary room. At sight of this 


156 


A CARDINAL BIN. 


gloomy home, so long shared with his beloved 
father, the young man’s grief again became 
uncontrollable; and, throwing himself on the 
bed, he buried his face in his hands and gave 
free scope to his overwhelming sorrow. 

He had sobbed thus for half an hour, 
absorbed wholly in his bitter despair, when he 
was startled by a knock at the door, fol- 
lowed by the entrance of some one into the 
room. 

“What is it?” asked Louis, wiping the 
tears from his eyes. 

“ I am sorry to disturb you at such a time, 
Monsieur Louis,” said the concierge timidly, 
“ but the coachman — ” 

“What coachman?” questioned the young 
man in surprise, having entirely forgotten the 
cab in his grief. 

“ Why, the coachman you retained all night. 
It seems you promised him twenty extra francs 
if he w'ould lash his horse to the utmost speed. 
This, with his night’s run, comes to forty -nine 
francs, and he claims his money.” 

“Well, give him the money and tell him 
to go!” rejoined Louis impatiently. 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


,157 


“ But, forty -nine francs is an enormous sum, 
Monsieur Louis; and I can’t pay it.” 

“My God! what shall I do!” cried the 
young man, recalled to the material interests 
of life by this request. “ I have no money! ” 

“ Then why in the deuce do you hire cabs 
by the hour and in the night, too, besides prom- 
ising twenty extra francs for speed? You 
must have taken leave of your senses! ” cried 
the astounded man, “What will you do now? 
See if you can’t find a little money in your 
father’s chest.” 

These last words recalled what he had for- 
gotten in his paroxysm of grief. His father 
was rich, and there must surely be some money 
about the place. Not wishing to prosecute his 
search in the presence of a stranger, however, 
he said carelessly: “Tell the man to wait, as 
may need the cab again this morning. If I 
am not down in half an hour, come up and I 
shall give you the money.” 

“ But this will increase the bill, and if you 
cannot pay — ” the man began to remonstrate. 

“ I know what I am doing,” interrupted 
Louis, coldly; “ you may go.” 


158 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


Once alone, lie shrank from the task im- 
posed upon him; this investigation, at such a 
moment, seemed almost a sacrilege. But 
necessity forced him to resign himself ta it, 
and he stifled his scruples as best he might. 

The furniture of the room was composed of 
a writing table, a dresser, and an old black- 
walnut chest divided into two compartments, 
such as we find in the houses of well-to-do 
peasants. After a fruitless search of the table 
and dresser, Louis turned to the old chest. A 
few pieces of worn clothes lay scattered about, 
but nothing else; and in the long drawer that 
separated the compartments, he found a bundle 
of unimportant papers only. Thinking this 
drawer might contain a secret hiding place, 
however, he drew it out completely, and was 
rewarded for his trouble by finding a small 
brass button beneath it. As he pressed this 
button, he was astonished to see the bottom of 
the first compartment drop slowly down, re- 
vealing a space of about six inches in depth, 
with diverging shelves lined in garnet velvet. 
Symmetrically arranged between these shelves 
were innumerable piles of gold pieces, repre- 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


159 


senting all countries and epochs. Each piece 
had evidently been frequently and vigorously 
rubbed and cleaned, for the whole glittered 
with almost dazzling brilliancy. 

Notwithstanding his overwhelming grief, 
Louis was completely dazzled for a moment 
at sight of this treasure, the value of which 
he knew must be considerable; and it was 
not until the first impression had passed 
over, that he remarked a piece of folded paper 
almost beneath his fingers. Recognizing his 
father’s hand-writing, he picked it up eagerly 
and read these words: 

“ This collection of gold coins was begun 
September 7, 1803; its actual value is 287,634 
francs. (See paragraph IY. in my last will 
and testament, confided to M. Marainville, 
notary, Rue Sainte-Anne, No. 28, who also has 
all papers, deeds and titles. See also sealed 
envelope, behind Spanish coin, fifth shelf.)” 

Removing several piles of the large, heavy 
coins, Louis at last found an envelope, sealed 
in black and bearing these words in big letters : 

“TO MY WELL-BELOYED SON.” 

Before he could open it, however, there 


160 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


was a knock on the door; and, remembering 
that lie had told the concierge to return in half 
an hour, he grasped one of the Spanish coins 
under his hand and quickly pressed the but- 
ton that closed the treasure box. 

“ What a fine gold piece!” exclaimed the 
amazed concierge , when the young man 
handed him the coin. “ It looks like new, 
and I never saw one like it! How much is it 
worth?” 

“ More than the sum I owe,” replied Louis, 
impatiently; “ take it to a money broker and 
pay the coachman.” 

“ Did your father leave you many of these 
pretty coins, Monsieur Louis?” queried the 
man in a mysterious whisper. “ Who would 
have believed that the poor old man — ” 

“ Go! ” cried Louis, irritated at the cynicism 
of this question. “ Pay the coachman, and 
don’t let me see you again.” 

The man withdrew without another word; 
and, having bolted the door to save himself 
from further intrusion, the miser’s son re- 
turned to the chest. For a moment he stood 
contemplating the dazzling treasure before 








































HE UNFOLDED THE SHEET CONTAINING THE LAST WISHES OF HIS FATHER 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


161 


him, and though he reproached himself for 
thinking of his own happiness in that terrible 
hour, he could not help feeling a thrill of de- 
light at the thought that one-fourtli that sum 
would insure comfort and independence to his 
Mariette for a whole lifetime. 

Then he tried to forget the cruel stratagem 
employed by his father toward the poor girl, 
and even succeeded in convincing himself that 
he would have obtained his consent to their 
union; and that, though he might not have 
admitted his wealth, he would at least have 
amply provided for them. 

The discovery of these riches did not 
inspire him with that covetous, revengeful joy 
usually experienced by the heirs of a miser, 
when they remember the cruel privations to 
which they were subjected through the avarice 
of the owner; it was, on the contrary, with a 
feelling of touching pious respect, and with a 
hand trembling with emotion, that he unfolded 
the sheet containing the last wishes of his 
beloved father. 


11 


162 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


CHAPTER XII. 

The testament had been written two months 
previous and was in these terms : 

“My beloved son: ” 

“ When you read these lines I shall have 
ceased to live.” 

“You have always believed me poor; but I 
leave you an immense fortune accumulated by 
my avarice. 

“ I have been miserly, and do not attempt 
to excuse my fault; far from it, I am proud of 
it and glory in it. 

“ And this is why: 

“ Until the day of your birth, which robbed 
me of your mother, I was unmindful of aug- 
menting my patrimony and the dowry brought 
me by my wife; the moment I had a son, how- 
ever, that sentiment of foresight, which 
becomes a sacred duty to a father, took pos- 
session of me, developing slowly into a love of 
economy, then into parsimony, and finally into 
avarice. 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


1(33 


“ Moreover, you never suffered through the 
privations I imposed upon myself. Born sound 
and robust, the virile simplicity of your educa- 
tion has, I believe, aided the development of 
your excellent constitution. 

“ When you reached the age of instruction, 
I sent you to a school opened to the children 
of poor parents ; to begin with, it was a means of 
economy; and besides, this mode of education 
was calculated to form and develop habits of a 
modest, laborious life. The success of this 
plan surpassed my expectations. Raised 
among poor children, you never acquired those 
factitious, expensive tastes; never experienced 
those bitter envies or vain jealousies which 
often influence our fate fatally. 

“ I also spared you many griefs which, 
though childish, are none the less cruel. 

“ You have never had to compare your con- 
dition to others more elevated or more opulent 
than your own. 

4 4 You have never felt the pangs of that 
envious hatred inspired by comrades in speak- 
ing of the splendor of their homes, boasting of 
the antique nobility of their race, or the wealth 
they would enjoy some day. 


164 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


“It is generally believed that because 
children of dissimilar conditions wear the 
same uniform, eat at the same table, and fol- 
low the same course of study, a sentiment of 
equality exists between them. 

“ This is a deep error. 

“ Social inequality is as well understood 
among children as it is among their elders. 

“The son of a rich bourgeois or of a noble- 
man, almost invariably betrays at the age of 
ten the arrogance, or haughtiness he will dis- 
play in fifteen years later. 

“ Whether children are little men, or men 
are grown children matters little; all have the 
consciousness of their condition. 

“ As for you, surrounded as you were by 
children of the poor, you heard them continu- 
ally speak of the hard labors of their parents; 
the indispensable necessity of work was there- 
fore early impressed on your mind. 

“ Others of your companions dwelt on the 
privations and miseries endured by their fam- 
ilies ; you thus became accustomed to the idea 
of our poverty. 

“ Lastly, you saw the greater number of 
these children resigned and courageous — two 
of the greatest virtues in the world — and 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


165 


until now, my beloved son, courage and. resig- 
nation have never failed you. 

“ At fifteen you competed for a scholarship 
in one of the high schools, where you finished 
your studies. Your first education had already 
borne excellent fruits; for, although many of 
your new companions belonged to the aristo- 
cratic world, their contact never altered your 
precious qualities, and you never kne^vv the 
meaning of either jealousy or envy. 

“ Later, you entered as junior clerk in a 
notary’s office, with a man who has long been 
my friend, and who alone holds the secret and 
administers my fortune. Until now, the dis- 
cretion of this friend has equaled his devotion 
Near him, you have acquired a perfect knowl- 
edge of business ; and, thanks to my foresight, 
you shall be in a position to skilfully and 
advantageously administer the considerable 
wealth I have amassed. 

“My conscience does not reproach me; and 
yet, I admit that I sometimes fear you will 
address this reproach to my memory: 

“ While you accumulated these riches, my 
father , you condemned me without mercy to the 
most cruel privations. 

“ Reflection drives this fear from my heart, 


166 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


however; I remember how frequently you have 
assured me that you were satisfied with your 
condition, and that if you desired luxuries it 
was only for my sake. 

“ In fact, your inexhaustible humor and 
gentleness, your natural gaiety of spirits and 
tender affection for me sufficiently prove that 
you are contented. Moreover, do I not share 
your privations? Your own economies, added 
to my earnings as a public scribe, have per- 
mitted us to live without touching my revenues. 
The capital has thus been growing for twenty 
years in the hands of my prudent administra- 
tor. 

“ On the day on which I pen these lines, 
my fortune amounts to about two millions and 
a half. 

“ I know not how many years of life may 
still be allotted to me, but in ten years I shall 
have attained the average length of human 
life ; you shall then be thirty-five years of age ; 
and since a capital doubles itself in ten years, 
my wealth shall have attained the enormous 
sum of four or five millions. 

“Unless I am stricken down suddenly, you 
shall therefore, in all probability, attain your 
complete maturity before entering into posses- 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


167 


sion of these riches. Your sober, modest, in- 
dustrious habits, contracted in childhood, shall 
be as a second nature to you; and your knowl- 
edge of business will be still more developed 
by practice. Add to these advantages your 
uprightness of mind, your strong physical con- 
stitution — unimpaired by early excesses — 
and you will find yourself in the best possible 
condition to inherit the wealth I have amassed, 
as well as to enjoy it according to your own 
tastes which, I am sure, can be nothing but 
generous and honorable. 

“ You may, perhaps, ask why I simply left 
my capital to multiply by itself, instead of 
attempting some great financial operation or 
enjoying the delights of luxury? 

“ I shall tell you why, my dear child. 

“ Although my avarice had its origin in a 
sentiment of paternal foresight, it has now as- 
sumed all the inherent characteristics of a 
violent passion. 

“I could, and can still, deprive myself of 
everything to accumulate riches upon riches, 
happy in the thought that it is all for you, and 
that you will enjoy this gold some day ; but to 
release my hold on any part of my belongings, 
for any object whatever, or risk anything in 


168 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


financial operations is impossible — no! not 
while I live! It would be tearing my heart 
out by the core; for the possession of his 
treasure is life itself to a miser. Without 
spending or risking one farthing, I can give 
myself up in imagination to the most hazard- 
ous or magnificent operations. And this is 
neither a vain desire nor an empty dream. No! 
no! with what I possess, those magnificences 
and splendors are realizable to-day, to-morrow, 
this very hour, if I choose. 

“ How then can you expect that a miser 
should have the courage or will to release his 
hold on such a talisman ? What ! for one project, 
one realized dream, would I sacrifice a thou- 
sand projects, a thousand realizable dreams? 
Besides, is not my son happy as he is? Would 
he not be the pride of the proudest of fathers ? 
And is it not for him, for him only , that I hoard 
up these treasures? 

“ Had I acted differently, what would have 
been the result? 

“ Had I been lavish, my prodigality would 
have left you in misery; and had I spent my 
income only, we would doubtless have lived in 
idleness and enjoyed a few physical joys or 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


169 


vain satisfactions, but what would we have 
gained ? 

“ Should we have become better? I know 
not. x But at my death I would have left you 
a reasonable income only, and not sufficient to 
realize any large and generous undertaking. 

“ One last word, my dear son, in answer to 
a reproach you may address my memory. 

“ Believe me, if you have been left in ignor- 
ance of my riches, it was not through a senti- 
ment of dissimulation or distrust of you. 

“ These were my reasons: 

“ Had you known of my riches, though you 
might perhaps have accepted the humble exist- 
ence I imposed on you without a murmur, 
you would have accused me in your heart of 
harshness and egotism; and, who knows, the 
certainty of future riches might perhaps also 
have impaired your precious qualities. 

“ This is not all — forgive me this foolish 
fear, this apprehension which is so unjust to 
your excellent heart — but to enjoy your filial 
affection in all its purity and disinterestedness 
during my life, it was necessary that you 
should have no thought of an opulent inheri- 
tance after my death. 

“Another reason, the gravest of all, per- 


170 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


haps, has led me to conceal my riches — I love 
you so tenderly, that it would have been 
impossible for me to see you undergo any pri- 
vation if you had known that I could provide 
the most sumptuous existence for you. 

“ Notwithstanding the apparent contradic- 
tion that seems to exist between this sentiment 
and my avaricious conduct toward you, I hope, 
my dear child, that you will understand my 
thought. 

“ And now, I place myself in spirit face to 
face with death, which may strike me to-day, 
to-morrow, or this very hour ; and I declare, in 
this supreme and solemn moment, that I bless 
you from the depth of my soul, my dear 
beloved child, you who have given me joy and 
happiness only in this world. 

“Be a hundred times blessed, Louis, my 
good, affectionate son; be happy according to 
your merits, and my last wishes will be accom- 
plished. 

“ Your father, A. Richard. 

“ Written and copied in Paris, February 25, 
18—” 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


171 


CHAPTER XIII. 

Louis was deeply moved by tlie reading of 
this singular testament, and wept long as he 
reflected on the eccentricities of his beloved 
father. The day was drawing to a close, when 
he was finally aroused from his grief by a 
knock at his door and the well known voice of 
Florestan de Saint-Herem. 

Quickly unbolting the door of the gloomy 
attic chamber, he found himself in his friend’s 
arms, who cried sympathetically: 

“Louis! my poor Louis! I know all. The 
concierge has just told ‘me of your father’s 
death. Ah! what a cruel, frightful accident! ” 

“ Read this, Florestan,” said Louis, with 
tears in his eyes, giving his friend the testa- 
ment left by his father, “ and you will under- 
stand my bitter grief.” 

Saint-Herem took the paper and, seating 
himself by the window, read it to the end. 

“Do you think I can now blame his ava- 


172 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


rice ? ” asked Louis, when liis friend had fin- 
ished. “ Was not his only aim to enrich me, 
to place me in a position to gain more wealth, 
or to make a generous use of the possessions 
he left me? He imposed the hardest priva- 
tions on himself that he might hoard up treas- 
ures for me!” 

“ Nothing surprises me on the part of a 
miser,” returned Florestan. “ They are capa- 
ble of great things — and this applies to all 
who are a prey to that powerful and prolific 
passion.” 

“Don’t exaggerate, Florestan.” 

“ This may seem a paradox to you, but 
there is nothing more true. We have always 
been stupidly unjust to misers,” went on Flores- 
tan, with growing enthusiasm. “ The genius 
and zeal they display in inventing inconceiv- 
able, impossible economies is prodigious. 
Altars should be raised in their honor ! Thanks 
to their wise, obstinate parsimony, they possess 
a wonderful knack of turning everything into 
gold; careful saving of matches, picking up 
stray pins, a centime carefully invested; in 
fact, the most trifling of economies bring in 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


173 


returns. And yet, the world denies the exist- 
ence of alchemists, the inventors of the phil- 
osophical stone! Once more, I repeat it, do 
they not turn into gold what is nothing in 
other hands ! ” 

“You are right enough on that score,” 
laughed Louis. 

“On that and on all other scores,” rejoined 
Florestan, seriously. “ Now, my dear fel- 
low, follow well my comparison; it is worthy 
of my most brilliant days of rhetoric! Take a 
dry, sterile land, and dig a well into it ; what 
happens? The smallest springs, the thinnest 
stream of subterranean water, the invisible 
tears of the earth, evaporated or lost until then 
without profit to anyone, will concentrate, drop 
by drop, into the bottom of this well ; little by 
little the water will increase and rise, the 
reservoir will fill; then, if a beneficent hand 
spreads this salutary spray liberally, verdure 
and blossoms will appear as if by enchantment 
on that hitherto unfruitful, desolate soil. Now, 
Louis, is not my comparison good? Is not 
the miser’s hidden treasure like this deep well, 
where, thanks to his obstinate and coura- 


174 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


geous savings, riches accumulate drop by drop, 
forming a reservoir from which may spring 
luxury, splendors, magnificence and prodigali- 
ties of all sorts? ” 

“My dear Florestan,” said Louis, drawn 
from his grief by his friend’s enthusiasm, 
“though my judgment of my father’s con- 
duct may have been influenced by filial affec- 
tion, your course of reasoning on the subject 
of economy proves that I was not far wrong, 
at least.” 

“You are indeed right, Louis; for if we 
take a philosophical view of avarice, the miser 
is still more admirable.” 

“ This appears less just.” 

“ Do you not admit that, sooner or later, 
these riches, so laboriously amassed by the 
miser, will almost inevitably shower magnifi- 
cences of all sorts; for the proverb says: A 
miserly father makes a prodigal son.” 

“I admit that prodigality is the usual dis- 
penser of these long-lioarded treasures; but 
where do you see philanthropy in that? ” 

“Where do I see it? Why, in every thing ! 
Do not the consequences of luxury and mag- 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


175 


nificence bring ease and comfort to the hun- 
dreds of families that weave silks and laces, 
chisel gold and silver, carve precious stones, 
build palaces, sculpture the ebony of furniture, 
varnish carriages, breed thoroughbred horses, 
and cultivate rare flowers? Have not artists, 
architects, musicians, singers, danseuses , all 
that is art, pleasure, poetry, enchantment, a 
large share of the gold shower that produces 
these wonders ? And does not this gold shower 
spring from that magical reservoir so slowly 
and perseveringly filled by the miser? There- 
fore, without the miser, we should have no 
reservoir, no gold shower, and none of the 
marvels which this sparkling, beneficent dew 
alone can produce — Now, let us look at the 
miser from a catholic point of view — ” 

“ Look at the miser from a catholic point 
of view! ” echoed Louis, in astonishment . 

“That is exactly where he is truly admira- 
ble,” rejoined Saint-Herem, imperturbably. 

“ I confess that this theory seems to me 
difficult to sustain.” 

“ On the contrary, it is most simple. Is 


176 


A CAltDINAL WIN. 


not abnegation one of the greatest virtues 
known? ” 

“ Undoubtedly.” 

“Well, my dear Louis, I defy you to cite 
me a monastic order whose members practice 
the renouncement of worldly pleasures more 
absolutely and sincerely than the miser. And 
his renouncement is truly the more heroic, 
because he has within his grasp all the de- 
lights and enchantments of soul, mind and 
senses, and possesses the incredible courage 
to refuse them all. There is strength, there is 
the triumph of an energetic will.” 

“ But you must take into consideration that . 
avarice almost invariably stifles all other pas- 
sions, and the renunciation is less difficult to a 
miser than to another. In depriving himself, 
he satisfies his predominant passion.” 

“Just so! And is not a power a great 
passion that will lead to such renunciation? 
But where the miser is truly sublime, is in his 
disinterestedness.” 

“ The miser’s disinterestedness ? You must 
be jesting, Florestan! ” 

“Yes, I repeat it, he is truly sublime in 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


177 


his disinterestedness! The miser is perfectly 
^aware that he is despised and execrated during 
life, and that his death will be greeted with 
delight by his heirs; yet, you cannot name a 
single one who has tried to make his treasure 
disappear with him, with a view of avenging 
his wrongs. Two millions in bank notes may 
be turned to ashes in live minutes, and leave 
no trace; but no, these good-natured misers, 
full of magnanimity and forgiveness, forget 
their injuries and enrich their heirs. I know 
of nothing comparable to the martyrdom of a 
miser and it is not the torture of an hour, but 
of a lifetime. He knows that the treasure, 
amassed so painfully and with so many priva- 
tions, will never be enjoyed by himself ; that the 
fatal hour will come when this gold, which he 
loves more than life, shall be dissipated in 
riotous living, in foolish orgies, in the midst of 
which his name and memory shall, perhaps, be 
scoffed and insulted — and by his own son, 
alas ! And yet he has no thought of punishing 
such insolent cupidity by destroying his 
treasure! Ah! believe me, Louis, avarice is a 
strong, mighty passion; and nothing that is 
12 

i 


178 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


strong and great can be useless. God, in His 
infinite wisdom, did not create passions with- 
out an aim — that is, a power without its use. 
If he endowed misers with incredible concen- 
tration of will, it is because they have some 
mysterious purpose to achieve. I repeat it, all 
forces have and must have, their expansion, 
all well-directed passions their fruitful issues. 
Let us suppose, for instance, that a minister 
of finance should bring to the management 
and economy of public affairs that inflexibility 
which characterizes the miser ; would not many 
wonders result from such avarice? Though 
Fouquet ruined the finances of France, never 
was the country more flourishing than under 
Colbert; without this avaricious minister, the 
prodigalities of Louis XIY would have been 
impossible; and all those marvels of magnifi- 
cence, of art and poetry, would have remained 
unknown. As you see, all is linked, en- 
chained together ; each cause produces its 
effect; the prodigality of Louis XIY is the con- 
sequence of the avarice of Colbert.” 

“ Remember, Florestan,” said Louis, sadly, 
“ that while this great king, whose memory I 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


179 


have always abhorred, was ruining the country 
by his insolent prodigalities, the heavily- 
taxed people were living in atrocious servitude 
to provide for the bold ostentations of Louis 
XIY, his mistresses and their children. And 
what misery still exists in our days! Ah! if 
you knew what a life of wretchedness Mariette 
has endured. Athough the poor child is strong 
and courageous, the sight of such frightful 
destitution would fill your heart with bitter 
resentment.” 

“What will you, I am a philanthropist in 
my own way ; I take things as they come, and, 
as I cannot do better, I spend to my last farth- 
ing. None can accuse me of encouraging the 
idleness of luxurious industries.” 

“I do not accuse your generous heart, my 
friend; the man who spends his money liber- 
ally or foolishly, provides work for the poor, 
and work is bread — yet, you laud avarice.” 

“ My dear fellow, who would appreciate the 
excellence of arms, if not the warrior? The 
excellence of a horse, if not the cavalier? The 
excellence of a lute, if not the player? 
Paganini, as pope, would have canonized 


180 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


Stradivarius, tlie maker of those wonderful 
violins, which the great artist plays so ad- 
mirably. Therefore, as I have the presump- 
tion of playing admirably with millions, I 
would canonize my uncle, that heroic martyr 
of avarice, if distributive justice would only 
place in my hands the wonderful instruments 
of prodigality he is manufacturing by hoard- 
ing his money.” 

“Ah! heavens!” cried Louis, suddenly 
gazing at his friend with a horrified expression. 

“ What is it? ” asked Saint-Herem, quietly. 

“ Don’t you know ? ” 

“Know what?” 

“ True enough, M. Ramon decided to 
come to Paris very suddenly.” 

“Is my uncle in Paris?” 

“Ah! Florestan, what strange things hap- 
pen in this world — ” 

“What do you mean?” 

“ And to think that I should be the one 
to announce it, after the conversation we have 
just had together! — It is, indeed, most 
strange! ” 

“ But what in the deuce have you to 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


181 


announce ? And what is there so strange 
about it? ” 

“ I have told you that my father had ar- 
ranged a marriage between your cousin and 
myself. ” 

“ Yes, what then? ” 

“Being in ignorance of my refusal, and 
wishing to hasten a marriage he desired as 
ardently as my father, your uncle and his 
daughter left Dreux yesterday and arrived this 
morning — ” 

“In Paris. Well, what of it? Why this 
hesitation and embarrassment on your part, 
my dear Louis? ” 

“ They did not come directly to Paris, but 
stopped at Versailles — at Versailles — where 
my poor father went — ” 

At this thought, which revived all his grief 
for his father’s terrible death, Louis again 
broke into sobs. 

“ My dear friend, I understand your bitter 
grief,” said Florestan. moved by his friend’s 
emotion, “ but try to be more courageous.” 

“ If I hesitate in speaking more clearly,” 
resumed the young man, when he had wiped 


182 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


away his tears, “it is because, in this hour of 
sorrow and mourning, I feel to be painfully 
affected in seeing the satisfaction — very excus- 
able perhaps — which the announcement I 
have to make will no doubt cause you.” 

“ In heaven’s name, Louis, explain your- 
self!” entreated Saint-Herem, in alarm. 

“As I have already told you, my father 
went to Versailles to meet your uncle and his 
daughter ” 

“ And then? ” 

“ They must have taken the train together, 
entered the same compartment — and — ” 

“My God! — it would be too horrible!” 
cried Florestan, burying his face in his hands. 

The cry of horror and compassion was so 
spontaneous and sincere, that Louis was touched 
by this proof of kindness of heart on the part 
of his friend, whose first impulse had been a 
sentiment of generous commiseration, and not 
of cynical, covetous joy, 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


183 


CHAPTER XIY. 

A long interval of silence followed, which 
Louis was the first to break. 

“I cannot tell you how your grief touches 
me, Florestan,” he said, with effusion, “it is 
so much in sympathy with what I feel at this 
sad moment. ” 

“What will you, my friend; as you are 
aware, I had but little affection for my uncle, 
and could jest concerning his inheritance when 
I believed him in perfect health. But it would 
require a heart of stone and an outrageous 
cupidity to feel no sorrow at the terrible fate 
which my uncle and his daughter may have 
met. As to what I have said of avarice, that 
passion whose consequences are so fruitful, I 
retract nothing; only I might have treated the 
subject more seriously had I known it to be a 
personal question. But I have, at least, proved 
that I am not of those who receive an inheri- 
tance with cynical joy. Now, my dear Louis, 


184 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


forgive me if I ask a question which may 
revive your grief. In the painful researches 
made by you to recover your father’s remains, 
did anything lead you to hope that my uncle 
and his daughter might have escaped ? ” 

“All I can say, Florestan, is, that I did not 
see them among the injured or dying. As to 
the victims whose fate they and my father must 
have shared, their features are unrecognizable.” 

“ As they must have been with your father, 
they probably shared his fate. However, I 
shall write to Dreux and make active researches. 
If you hear of anything new, let me know — 
But, in the midst of all these sad incidents, I 
am forgetting Mariette — ” 

“ It was only a cruel misunderstanding, as 
you suspected. I found her more affectionate 
and devoted than ever.” 

“Her love will be a precious consolation in 
your sorrow — Now, good-bye, my poor Louis. 
Remember that you may always trust in my 
affection and friendship for you.” 

“Ah! Florestan, were it r not for your 
friendship and Mariette’s love, I know not how 
I could bear this crushing blow. Good-bye, 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


185 


my friend, and let me know all yon can dis- 
cover concerning your uncle.” 

Once alone, Louis pondered long over 
wliat he should do. Finally, coming to a 
determination, he placed the gold he had 
discovered into a traveling bag, thrust the will 
into his pocket, and at once proceeded to the 
office of his employer, the notary and friend 
mentioned by his father. 

The notary was much affected by the de- 
tails of the probable death of his client and, 
having expressed his sympathy to Louis, 
promised to fulfill all the legal formalities 
necessary to establish the death of the old 
miser. 

“ There remains one question I wish to 
ask,” said Louis, when all the arrangements 
had been agreed upon. “ AYhen all these sad 
formalities have been gone through, can I 
dispose of my father’s possessions?” 

“Most assuredly, my dear Louis,” replied 
the notary. 

“ These, then, are my intentions. I have 
brought you a sum of money amounting to 
over two hundred thousand francs, which I 


186 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


found hidden in a drawer; with this gold I 
wish to assure a pension of twelve hundred 
francs to the godmother of my fiancA” 

“ But is the young girl in a position that — ” 
interrupted the notary. 

“ The young girl in question earns her own 
bread,” broke in Louis in his turn. “ But I 
love her, and no power on earth can prevent 
me from marrying her,” he concluded, in a 
firm, resolute tone. 

“Very well,” assented the notary, realizing 
the uselessness of his observations ; “ the pen- 
sion shall be paid to the person indicated by 
you.” 

“ Besides, I will take about fifteen thousand 
francs to fit up a suitable home,” added Louis. 

“Only fifteen thousand francs!” exclaimed 
the notary, astonished at the modest request. 
“ Will it be sufficient? ” 

“ My fianc6 and myself have been accus- 
tomed to a life of labor and poverty, and our 
ambitions have never gone beyond an’ existence 
of modest comfort. An income of a thousand 
crowns per annum, joined to our own earnings, 
will therefore amply suffice for our wants.” 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


187 


“Joined to your earnings! What do you 
mean to do ? ” 

“ Remain in your office, if I have not dero- 
gated in your estimation.” 

“What! Work, with an income of over a 
hundred thousand livres?” 

“ I cannot yet believe that this large for- 
tune is mine, my dear friend ; and even though 
my poor father’s death may be established 
according to legal formalities, I shall always 
retain a hope that I may again see him.” 

“My poor Louis, your hope is an illusion.” 

“It is an illusion I shaU retain as long as 
possible, monsieur; and while it lasts I shall 
never feel free to dispose of my father’s money, 
save within the limits I have mentioned.” 

“ No son could act with more perfect and 
honorable reserve, my dear Louis. But what 
will you do with the rest of the inheritance?” 

“ So long as there remains the slightest 
hope of finding my father among the living, 
you will remain the trustee of his possessions.” 

“ I can only express my admiration for you, 
my dear Louis. You could not better honor 
the memory of your father than in acting thus. 


188 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


Everything shall be as you desire; I accept 
your trust, and will manage the estate as in 
the past; and I shall this very day make out 
the contract for the life pension you have 
mentioned.” 

“ Speaking of that subject, my dear friend, 
I must enter into details that will seem trifling 
to you, but which, nevertheless, have their 
painful side.” 

“Well?” 

“ The poor woman to whom this pension is 
to be given has been so cruelly tried during 
her long existence, that her character, though 
naturally generous, has become embittered 
and distrustful; a promise of happiness would 
be vain in her eyes, unless accompanied by 
palpable, material proof — therefore, to con- 
vince this unfortunate creature of the reality 
of the pension promised, I shall take with me 
the sum of fifteen thousand francs in gold, 
which represents the capital of her life income. 
It is the only means of convincing her of my 
good intentions toward her.” 

“ Nothing is more simple, my dear Louis,” 
acquiesced the notary. “ Take what you de- 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


189 


sire, and rest assured that the papers will be 
drawn this very day.” 

After a cordial pressure of the hand, Louis 
left the old notary and turned in the direction 
of Mariette’s home. 


190 


A CABDINAL SIN. 


CHAPTEE XV. 

Louis found Mariette working patiently be- 
side her godmother, who was apparently sound 
asleep ’in her bed and oblivious of her unfor- 
tunate lot for a few moments, at least. 

The young man’s extreme pallor, the alter- 
ation of his features and their painful expres- 
sion, struck Mariette at once and filled her 
with grave apprehensions. 

“My God! something has happened, Louis!” 
she cried, coming quickly toward him. 

“ Yes, something terrible has happened, 
Mariette,” he said sadly. “ Have you heard 
of the terrible accident on the Versailles 
road?” 

“Yes, what a frightful thing! They say 
there was a large number of victims,” she re- 
joined, with a shudder. 

“My father was of the number,” he added, 
simply. 

The words had scarcely passed his lips, 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


191 


wlien he felt two soft arms encircle his neck 
and hot tears inundating his cheeks, while the 
young girl sobbed as though her heart would 
break. The two young people remained thus 
clasped in each other’s arms for several moments 
without uttering a word. Louis was the first to 
break the painful silence. 

“My darling,” he said, “you know what 
deep affection existed between my father and 
myself — you can understand my despair.” 

“ Your loss is terrible, Louis.” 

“Your love is my only consolation, Mari- 
ette; and I shall ask a new proof — ” 

“You have but to command — my heart is 
yours.” 

“We must marry within the shortest pos- 
sible delay.” 

‘ Ah ! Louis ! can you doubt my answer for 
a moment? Is this the new proof of love that 
you ask? ” she said, half reproachfully. Then, 
after a moment of reflection, she added sadly: 
“Yet we cannot marry before the end of your 
mourning.” 

“ My dear Mariette, pray do not let such a 
scruple stand between us.” 


192 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


“I sliall do as you wish.” 

“Listen, Mariette,” said the young man, 
earnestly: “true mourning is that of the soul, 
and with me it will endure long beyond the 
time limited by society and the world in gen- 
eral. My heart is crushed w T ith sorrow, and I 
can honor the memory of my father without 
conforming to customs of propriety. And 
believe me, my darling, a marriage contracted 
under the painful impressions caused by my 
sad loss, will appear more solemn and sacred 
than if contracted under other circumstances.” 

“You may be right, Louis; yet it is cus- 
tomary to wait,” ventured the young girl. 

“My dear Mariette, shall my father be less 
deeply regretted because you are my wife, and 
weep over his death with me, because you are 
wearing mourning for him and are attached to 
his memory by a tender link? Besides, my 
darling, in my grief and isolation, I cannot 
live without you — I would die.” 

“I am only a poor working girl, ignorant 
of the ways of v tlie world, and can only express 
what I feel, Louis,” rejoined Mariette, unable 
to resist his pleadings. “The reasons you 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


193 


plead for an early marriage seem good to me. 
I may be wrong, or I may, perhaps, be in- 
fluenced by my longing to be yours; but I 
know that I can accede to an immediate mar- 
riage without regret or remorse. And yet, it 
seems to me my heart is as tender as others — ” 
“Yes, and more ungrateful, too!” inter- 
rupted a harsh voice; and Mme. Lacombe sat 
bolt upright in her bed, glaring fiercely at the 
astounded young couple. “Ah! yes,” she 
went on, sarcastically, “you thought the old 
woman sound asleep, and took advantage of it 
to talk of your wedding. But I heard every 
word of it.” 

“ There was not a word which you might 
not hear, madam e,” observed Louis, gravely. 
“ Mariette and myself retract nothing we have 
said.” 

“ The deuce! — I believe it — you think of 
nothing but yourself. You can talk of nothing 
but that accursed marriage. As for me — I 
might as well be in my grave — ” 

“Allow me to interrupt you, madame,” 
broke in Louis, “ and prove that I have not 
forgotten my promise.” 

13 


194 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


As lie spoke, lie took a small wooden box 
from tlie table, where he had laid it on enter- 
ing, and deposited it on the bed with the key. 

“Open it,” he said; “all it contains is 
yours.” 

The old woman picked up the key sus- 
piciously, opened the box and peered in. 

“ Great heavens! ” she cried in amazement, 
dazzled by the glittering contents. Then 
plunging her hand among the shining pieces, 
she tossed them about, jingling them together 
and allowing them to slip through her fingers 
in a golden shower, muttering covetously: 
“Ah! what gold! what gold! — all good and 
sound, too! — Heavens! what beautiful pieces! 
Wliat a big sum they must make! ” 

Turning the box over, she gathered the 
coins into a dazzling pile, and added with a sigh : 
“ That would bring comfort and ease to two 
poor women like Mariette and me for a life- 
time!” 

“ Those fifteen thousand francs are yours, 
madame,” observed Louis. 

“Mine!” she cried,, “ mine! ” then shaking 
her head incredulously, she resumed sharply: 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


195 


“ That’s it, laugh at a poor old woman — why 
can’t you leave me in peace? — I don’t see why 
this should belong to me ! ” 

“ The money is to be used to provide a pen- 
sion of twelve hundred francs for you,” 
declared the young man, “that you may be 
independent after our marriage; for we shall 
be married as soon as possible.” 

“Ah! yes; so you wish to bribe the old 
woman, and be rid of her once for all,” growled 
the irritable Mme. Lacombe. “ Do you 
imagine I would sell myself for money ? ” 

“Dear godmother,” cried Mariette, throw- 
ing her arms about the woman’s neck, “ don’t 
say we want to get rid of you ! Louis had no 
thought of humiliating you with the money, 
he merely did what you requested.” 

“I know it; but what will you, child,” she 
said, softened in spite of herself. “It was the 
fear of starving in the streets, the fear of see- 
ing you unhappily married that suggested the 
idea of a pension to me. I know that I have 
no right to expect such a thing; but one can 
never imagine what terror is inspired by the 
thought of being cast into the streets penniless, 


196 


A CARDINAL SIN 


old and infirm as I am ! — All I want is a poor 
mattress in a corner, a crust of bread, and the 
sight of Mariette’s sweet face. I am so accus- 
tomed to see her come and go in this wretched 
room, that if she were not there I would think 
myself shut up in a dark tomb. And besides, 
she is the only person in the world who could 
be kind to me — all I ask is to remain with 
Marietta That pile of gold dazzled me for a 
moment, but then it humiliated me too in my 
heart. One may be but a worm, and yet have 
some pride — and yet, when that man offered 
me gold for Mariette the other day, I was not 
humiliated — I was only furious. But now, 
here I am weeping ; and Mariette knows I have 
not shed a tear for the last ten years. Bitter- 
ness may eat away the heart, but it does not 
melt it.” 

“ These tears will do you good, godmother,” 
said Mariette gently. 

“ Have confidence in the future, madame,” 
added Louis, consolingly. “Mariette will never 
leave you. We shall not live in luxury, but in 
modest comfort; and Mariette shall continue 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


197 


to love you as a mother, while I shall love you 
as a dutiful son.” 

“ Are you really in earnest? do you really 
mean to keep me with you?” she asked, gaz- 
ing earnestly into their faces, as though she 
would read their inmost thoughts. 

At this new proof of invincible distrust, the 
young people exchanged a look of compassion ; 
then, taking the sick woman’s hand in hers, 
Mariette said tenderly: “Yes, dear god- 
mother, we shall keep you always with us, and 
nurse you as we would our own mother ; you 
shall see how happy we shall make life to 
you—” 

“Yes, we shall make your life a dream of 
happiness,” added Louis, affectionately. 

The voice, accent, expression and earnest- 
ness of the two young people would have con- 
vinced the most skeptic ; but alas ! an absolute, 
complete belief in sudden happiness could not 
penetrate this poor soul so long corroded by 
suffering. 

“I believe you, my children,” she said, 
with a suppressed sigh, trying to hide her 
involuntary doubt. “ Yes, I believe Monsieur 


198 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


Louis has the money; I believe that you both 
feel some affection for me, also — but you 
know, a new broom sweeps clean! People are 
willing enough at first, but things change with 
time. Besides, I may be in the way ; newly 
married people love to be alone, and an old 
grumbler like me spoils the beauty of a cozy 
house. You will be afraid of my sharp words, 
grow weary of me, or — ” 

“Ah! godmother, do you still doubt us?” 
cried Mariette, reproachfully. 

“You must forgive me, my children, but it 
is stronger than myself,” rejoined the unhappy 
woman, bursting into sobs. “ But then,” she 
added, with a forced smile, “ it may be better 
so; for if I were to suddenly believe in happi- 
ness, after more than fifty years of sorrow and 
misery, I would surely go mad. And upon my 
word, it would not surprise me,” she concluded 
bitterly, “ it would be just my luck.” 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


199 


CHAPTER XVI. 

Five years had glided by since the eventful 
incidents related in the preceding chapters, 
and another anniversary of the Versailles dis- 
aster had been added, to the list. 

It was about nine o’clock in the evening, 
and a tall, slender brunette, of elegant form 
and figure, whose beautiful face expressed 
intelligence and firmness both, was giving the 
finishing touches to a dazzling toilette. She 
was assisted in this serious and important 
occupation by two skillful maids, one of whom 
was clasping a necklace of large, sparkling 
diamonds around the white throat of her 
charming mistress, while the other adjusted a 
magnificent diadem of the same precious stones 
on the raven black hair. 

The choice of these diamonds had evidently 
been made after much deliberation, for a num- 
ber of jewel cases, containing pearls, rubies, 
and other precious ornaments of enormous 


200 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


value, still lay open on a toilet table near 

b y- 

One of the maids, being much older than 
her companion, and having been in the service 
of her mistress for many years, seemed to 
enjoy a certain degree of familiarity near the 
countess — who was a Russian as well as herself 
— which permitted her many observations not 
usually tolerated from her class. 

“Does madame like the diadem as it is 
now?” she asked in her own tongue. 

“Well enough,” replied Countess Zomaloff, 
nonchalantly, casting a last glance at the large 
mirror before her. “ Where is my bouquet? ” 

“Here, madame.” 

“Heavens! how frightfully yellow and 
faded it is ! ” cried the countess, shrinking 
back. 

“ The duke has just sent it,” ventured the 
maid. 

“I recognize his good taste,” said the 
countess sarcastically, as she shrugged her 
pretty shoulders disdainfully. “ I would wager 
the flowers were ordered yesterday morning 
by some lover who broke off with his mistress 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


201 


during the day, and consequently did not call 
for them in the evening. The Duke de Rian- 
court is the only man in the world capable of 
discovering such bargains ! ” 

“Ah! madame, can you believe he would 
economize to that point?” protested the maid. 
“ He is so rich! ” 

“ That makes it only the more probable.” 

A rap on the door of the boudoir adjoining 
the dressing-room, interrupted the conversa- 
tion, and the French maid vanished, returning 
almost immediately with the information that 
the duke had arrived and was at madame’s 
orders. 

“Let him wait,” observed the countess 
carelessly. “ Is the princess in the drawing- 
room ? ” 

“Yes, madame.” 

“Very well — here Katinka, clasp this 
bracelet,” resumed the countess, addressing 
the Russian maid in her own language once 
more, “and see what time it is.” 

Katinka turned to the clock and was 
opening her lips to reply, when her mistress 


202 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


forestalled her by saying, with a mocking 
smile: 

“After all, why shonld I make such an 
inquiry. The duke has just arrived, half-past 
nine must — ” 

The half-hour stroke from the clock on the 
chimney interrupted her, and she broke into a 
merry, rippling laugh. 

“What did I tell you, Katinka,” she 
laughed, “the duke is a veritable clock in 
exactitude.” 

“ It proves his love and devotion, madame,” 
rejoined the maid. 

“I would prefer a less well-regulated love, 
Katinka,” retorted the countess. “ These per- 
sons who worship at fixed hours seem to have 
a watch where the heart ought to be. There 
now, I am almost sorry to be so completely 
dressed and ready, and to have no excuse to 
make that poor duke wait longer to reward 
him for his pitiless exactitude.” 

“But, madame,” remonstrated the maid, 
“ if you dislike him so, why do you marry 
him?” 

“ Why?” echoed the countess, absent-mind* 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


203 


edly, giving another glance at the mirror; 
“ why do I marry M. de Riancourt? Really, 
Katinka, yon are more inquisitive than I am; 
does one ever know why one marries?” 

“ Everybody seems to think there exist ex- 
cellent reasons for this marriage, nevertheless,” 
pursued Katinka. “ Although M. de Rian- 
court has no gold mines in Crimea, silver mines 
in the Ural Mountains, diamond — ” 

“ In mercy, Katinka, don’t go over the list 
of my riches ! ” cried the countess, impatiently. 

“Well, madame, although the duke has 
not your immense possessions, he is one of the 
wealthiest and greatest noblemen in France; 
he is young and handsome, has never led a 
dissipated life, and — ” 

“ And he is worthy of wearing a wreath of 
orange blossoms on our wedding day — a right 
which I have not; but, in heaven’s name, spare 
me his virtues. My aunt sounds his praises 
loud enough without assistance.” 

“Yes, the princess is very fond of mon- 
sieur le due, and she is not the only one 
who—” 


204 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


“ Give me a cloak,” interrupted her mis- 
tress, “ the night is chilly.” 

“ Has madame given her orders for the 
twentieth of the month?” went on the per- 
sistent maid. 

“ What orders? ” 

“ Has madame forgotten that her marriage 
takes place a week from to-day ? ” 

“ What! a week from to-day? — so soon ! ” 

“ Madame fixed the date for May 20, and 
this is May 12 — ” 

“If I said the twentieth, I suppose it must 
be on the twentieth — give me my fan.” 

The maid brought a collection of magnifi- 
cent fans and placed them before her mistress 
to allow her to make a choice. 

“ How singular, ” murmured the countess, 
half to herself, as she picked out a veritable 
Watteau from the rich collection; “ I am young 
and free, and abhor constraint, yet I have 
chosen a master.” 

“A master!” exclaimed Katinka. “Why, 
the duke is so good and kind, madame! You 
will make whatever you wish of him.” 

“ I shall never make an agreeable man of 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


205 


him; and yet, I shall marry him. Ah! my 
good annt, your advice may cause me to com- 
mit a great folly,” she added, half laughing, 
half serious, as she gazed mechanically at the 
mischievous little god of love on her fan. “ I 
made a blind choice among men equal in rank 
and riches, all so mediocre and uninteresting 
that it mattered not which I chose. This was 
the motive of my preference for M. de Rian- 
court, Katinka. Besides, although marriage 
has its inconveniences, widowhood has still 
greater ones. So, it is the better to marry, 
after all; it saves the trouble of wondering 
what we shall do.” 

Having thus summarily settled this ques- 
tion, Countess Zomaloff proceeded to the draw- 
ing-room, where she found her aunt and the 
duke awaiting her. 

Princess Wileska was a tall, distingue wo- 
man, with powdered hair and imposing presence, 
who presented a striking contrast to the mea- 
gre personage engaged in conversation with 
her. The Duke de Riancourt was a small, ner- 
vous man of thirty years or thereabouts, with 
a sanctimonious, unctuous mien, shifting eyes 


206 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


and long, smooth hair, carefully parted near 
the middle of the forehead, and a rigidity of 
movement that showed great empire over him- 
self. 

As the countess entered, he advanced 
toward her slowly, bowed low and raised her 
pretty hand to his lips with respectful 
courtesy; then, straightening himself up, he 
gazed at her for a moment as if dazzled, and 
cried, admiringly: “Ah! countess, I have 
never seen these diamonds! I don’t believe 
you could find their equal anywhere. Heavens ! 
how beautiful, how magnificent they are!” 

“ Really, my dear duke,” rejoined the coun- 
tess, with well feigned embarrassment, “ I am 
much confused — that is, for the jeweler 
who sold them to me — one could never be more 
gallant than you; and since these diamonds 
cause you so much tender emotion, inspire 
such gracious compliments, such ingenious 
flattery, I can do no less than confide to you 
the charming name of the bewitching lapidary 
— his name is Ezechiel Rabotautencraff , and 
he resides in Frankfort.” 

While the amazed duke was searching a 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


207 


reply to this sarcastic sally, the princess gave 
a reproachful glance to her niece; then, turn- 
ing to the discomfited nobleman with a 
forced smile, said playfully: 

“ How much Foedora does like to tease you, 
my dear duke. This is her way of showing 
her affection to those she loves.” 

“ I will humbly confess, my dear princess,” 
said the duke, anxious to repair his awkward 
blunder, “ that I was so dazzled by those mag- 
nificent stones that, for a moment, I forgot to 
render homage to the charms of the wearer. 
But — but — may not one be dazzled by the 
sun while gazing at a charming flower?” 

“ I find your comparison of the sunstroke 
and the flower so gallant and to the point,” 
retorted the malicious young woman, “ that I 
am tempted to believe it was this very same 
sunstroke that so outrageously withered these 
poor flowers,” and a gay ripple of laughter 
broke from her lips, as she pointed to the 
faded blossoms sent by the duke that evening. 

The unfortunate man flushed to the roots of 
his hair, while the princess frowned at her 
irrepressible niece. 


208 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


“ Pray offer your arm to my aunt, my dear 
duke,” resumed tlie countess, totally indiffer- 
ent to tlie divers emotions she had caused. 

“ I promised the embassadress de Sardaigue 
I would come early, as she is to present me to a 
relative, and, as you know, we must first visit 
that enchanted palace you spoke of, in all its 
details. This is an odd time for such a visit, 
it is true ; but I admit I have a weakness or, 
rather, a passion, for anything odd. Original- 
ity is such a rare, charming thing ! ” 

Preceding her aunt and the duke, the 
bewitching countess ran lightly down the wide 
stairs of the elegantly furnished house she had 
rented in the Rue de Rivoli, while in search 
of the mansion she wished to purchase in 
Paris. 

On that evening the duke was to take his 
friends out in his own carriage ; a very permis- 
sible liberty, since the bans of his marriage 
with the countess had already been published. 
After a few moments of waiting at the door of 
the mansion, the aunt and niece saw an enor- 
mous yellow landau advanding toward them, 
drawn by two emaciated horses mercilessly 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


209 


laslied by a coachman in red and blue 
livery. 

“Why — this is not your carriage?” 
gasped the countess, gazing at the duke in 
amazement as the footman opened the portiere 
of the vehicle. 

“ Certainly, madame,” he replied. 

“ And what has become of that pretty blue 
victoria, with the dapple grays, you placed at 
our disposal yesterday morning?” 

“Under the present condition of affairs, my 
dear countess, I may as well make a clean 
breast of it,” rejoined the duke, with touching 
abandon. “ That I may not fatigue my valu- 
able horses — for they did cost me enormously 
— I hire a carriage for the evening. This is 
a great point of economy, for it is always a 
risk to take out a valuable turnout at 
night.” 

“You are perfectly right, my dear duke,” 
the princess hastened to say, fearing a new 
sarcasm from her niece; and, without further 
ado, she entered the heavy, lumbering thing, 
leaning on the arm of her escort. 

The duke then offered his hand to the 
li 


210 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


countess to assist her in her turn; but she 
stopped with one dainty foot resting on the 
last step, and peered curiously within. 

“ My dear aunt,” she said sweetly, “ will 
you be kind enough to examine the carriage 
well?” 

“ Why, my dear,” asked the princess 
naively. 

“Because I am afraid some freckled, red- 
headed miss, or some fat city merchant may 
have been forgotten in some obscure corner of 
this thing. These worthy people usually 
drive out in family parties in just such equi- 
pages, and I have a horrible fear of finding 
some of them under the seats.” 

“ Beally, Foedora, I fail to understand you,” 
returned the princess, angrily, while her niece 
sank in the seat beside her with a laugh. 
“You are absurdly severe toward M. de Rian- 
court— what can you be thinking of?” 

“ I want to cure him of his meanness and 
impudence,” retorted the countess, coolly. 
“ Could I better prove my interest in him? ” 

At that moment the duke entered the car- 
riage and took his seat opposite the princess 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


211 


and lier niece. Though he seemingly endured 
with the most Christianly patience all the 
railleries of the young woman who possessed 
all kinds of precious mines, the furtive glance 
he cast on her now and then, and the contrac- 
tion of his thin lips, betrayed the rancour that 
filled his heart and foreboded no good for the 
future. 

“ To the Eamon mansion,” he ordered the 
footman, who stood at the door. 

“ Beg pardon, monsieur, but I don’t know 
where it is,” replied the man, respectfully. 

“ At the end of the Cours-la-Reine , in the 
direction of the quariier Jean-Gonjan ,” ex- 
plained the duke. 

“Monsieur means that large mansion which 
has been in course of construction for so many 
years ? ” 

“ That very place, ’’^assented the duke. 

The footman closed the carriage door, gave 
his instructions to the coachman, who lashed 
his jaded horses, and the lumbering landau 
started in the direction of Cours-la-Reine , 
where the marvelous Saint-Bamon mansion 
was situated. 


212 


A CAttDINAL blN. 


CHAPTER XYII. 

The heavy vehicle rolled on so slowly, that 
a pedestrian walking in the same direction, 
easily kept np with it through the whole length 
of the Coufs-la- Heine , although he seemed 
anything but nimble footed. 

He was poorly dressed and leaned painfully 
on his stick ; his long beard was white, as well 
as his hair and bushy eyebrows, and the dark 
color of his wrinkled face gave him the ap- 
pearance of a mulatto. 

As the landau approached the Saint-Ramon 
mansion, however, the coachman was forced to 
take his place in the long procession of car- 
riages going in the same direction, thus per- 
mitting the pedestrian to gain a certain dis- 
tance ahead. 

The old mulatto continued his way slowly 
to the entrance of a broad avenue, encumbered 
with a long line of carriages and almost daz- 


A CABDINAL SIN. 


213 


zling with bright colored lights, and paused in 
amazement at the gate. 

“ AVhy are these grounds so brilliantly il- 
luminated?” he asked a curious looker-on. 

“ In honor of the opening of the wonderful 
Saint-Ramon mansion,” replied the man ad- 
dressed. 

“ Saint Ramon!” repeated the old man, 
softly, as if speaking to himself. “ How 
strange ! ” 

He seemed buried in reflections for a few 
minutes, then turning once more to the man he 
had already addressed, he asked with evident 
curiosity : 

“ Can you tell me anything about this man- 
sion, monsieur?” 

“ People say it is the eighth wonder of the 
world; and upon my word, it must be wonder- 
ful; the work has been going on for five years,” 
responded the man. 

“To whom does it belong?” 

“To a young millionaire, who has spent his 
money lavishly and very foolishly, I believe.” 

“Do you know his name?” 


214 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


“I believe the “name is Saint Harem or 
Saint-Herem — ” 

“ There is no more doubt,” murmured the 
old man. “ But why should he name it Saint 
Ramon?” 

Again he seemed buried in sad reflections, 
until aroused from his reverie by his com- 
panion’s voice. 

“ How singular, after all,” the man was 
saying. “ A rich marquis should know only 
people with equipages ; . and yet, outside of 
two or three good carriages, the whole proces- 
sion consists of fiacres and cabriolets .” 

“ Singular, indeed,” repeated the old man. 
“ But can you tell me the time? ” 

“ Half-past-ten,” the man informed him. 

“I am to be at Cliaillot at midnight only,” 
said the old man to himself. “ It leaves me 
ample time to investigate this mystery. What 
a strange coincidence.” 

After some hesitation, the old man entered 
the gate, glided into the obscurity of a by-path 
shaded by secular elm -trees, and walked on 
toward the mansion. Notwithstanding his 
evident preoccupation, he could not help 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


215 


remarking tlie immense quantity of flowers 
that banked the main avenue, their thousand 
variegated colors illuminated by a profusion 
of many-liued lanterns and glittering glass 
candelabra of all shapes and shades. 

This fairy-land avenue ended in a vast hem- 
icycle as brightly illuminated, beyond which 
arose the Saint Ramon mansion, a veritable 
palace which, by the beauty and grandeur of 
its architecture, recalled the most brilliant 
days of the Eenaissance. 

Crossing the hemicycle, the old man reached 
an immense porch leading to the peristyle. 
Through the glass doors that enclosed this 
antechamber in all its length, he could see an 
army of powdered footmen in magnificent 
livery, while around him a continual stream of 
carriages unloaded a multitude of men, 
women and young girls, whose extreme sim- 
plicity of toilet seemed in little harmony with 
the splendors of this enchanted palace. 

Urged on by an invincible curiosity, the 
old mulatto followed the ever increasing throng 
into the peristyle; then passing through a 
double row of footmen, in resplendent blue and 


216 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


silver liveries, and standing as impassible as 
soldiers, he finally reached the reception room, 
where another army of servants in blue coats, 
black silk breeches and white silk stockings, 
stood in array. Although the modest appear- 
ance of the guests seemed little befitting the 
princely luxury of the house in which they 
were received, the stranger noticed, with some 
surprise, that the most respectful deference 
was shown to all. He paused but a moment 
here, however, passing almost immediately into 
the music gallery, beyond which was an 
immense circular salon, surmounted by a dome 
and forming the center of three other galleries 
which served as ball room, banquet hall, and 
billiard room. These four galleries — includ- 
ing the music hall - — were connected by wide 
passages paved in rich mosaics and adorned 
with a profusion of exotic plants, while they 
were covered with glass domes, giving the 
whole the appearance of a hot-house. 

We shall not attempt to describe the splen- 
dor, elegance, noble grandeur and sumptuous - 
ness of the furnishings of these vast rooms, 
dazzling with gildings and paintings, sparkling 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


217 


with lights, crystals and flowers, reflected 
indefinitely by enormous mirrors, but will 
tnerely mention the rare magnificence that 
gave this palace its royal, monumental char- 
acter. The salon and galleries were adorned 
with allegorical paintings and sculptures that 
would have made the renown of the most beau- 
tiful castle in existence. The most illustrious 
artists of the day had contributed to this 
superb work. Ingres, Delacroix, Scheffer, 
Paul Delaroclie, and other future celebrities, 
such as Couture, Gerome, etc., had been 
employed by the opulent and intelligent creator 
of this palace. On the banquet table was dis- 
played a marvel of silverware worthy of the 
epoch of Benvenuto; candelabra, ewers, ice 
basins, fruit bowls, flower vases, all would 
have done honor to >a mus6e by the rich purity 
of form and the precious finish and delicacy 
that characterized each piece. 

One odd peculiarity of the vast circular 
salon must not be omitted, however. Above a 
gigantic white marble chimney, a veritable 
monument to the bold genius of David — our 
Michael Angelo — were a number of allegorical 


218 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


figures in relief, representing arts and indus- 
tries, and supporting a large oval frame in- 
crusted in the entablature of the chimney. 
This frame enclosed a painting which might 
have been attributed to Yelasquez. It was 
the portrait of a pale man, with a harsh, aus- 
tere countenance, hollow cheeks, sunken eyes, 
and high, polished forehead; a brown gown, 
half in the style of a dressing gown and 
half way resembling the gown of a monk, 
gave the figure the imposing character of 
those saints and martyrs so numerous in the 
Spanish school of painting; an appearance 
emphasized, moreover, by a gold aureole which 
seemed to cast its dazzling reflections on the 
austere, pensive face. Below, traced in large, 
Gothic letters in a space formed by the foliage 
of the border, were these two words: 

SAINT RAMON. 

Still following the throng, the old mulatto 
finally found himself before this chimney. At 
sight of the portrait, he stood for a moment in 
amazement; then, overcome by emotion, tears 
filled his eyes and he murmured softly: 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


219 


“Poor friend! it is indeed lie! But why the 
word saint prefixed to his name? Why that 
aureole around his brow ? Why this mystic 
appearance? And besides, what a strange 
celebration! Though poorly dressed, and a 
stranger, I entered without meeting resistance, 
or even an inquiry.” 

At this moment a servant bearing fruits 
and ices approached and offered him refresh- 
ments, which he refused; he was striving, but 
in vain, to guess what might be the condition 
of the people around him. All the men were 
modestly attired; some in black frock-coats, 
others in new blouses, while a few wore the 
customary evening dress; all maintained a 
discreet reserve, though they expressed their 
delight to one another in low voices; and yet, 
strange to say, far from appearing amazed at 
the riches accumulated in this palace, they 
seemed perfectly at ease and not at all awed 
by the magnificence of their surroundings. 

The women and young girls, however, 
seemed more embarrassed and intimidated; 
they naively admired the splendor of the place 


220 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


and exchanged comments and observations in 
whispers. 

Anxious to penetrate this singular mystery, 
the old mulatto again approached the chimney 
and joined a group of guests who were con- 
templating the portrait of Saint-Rcimon. 

“Do you see that portrait, Juliette?” a 
tall, robust man, with a good natured coun- 
tenance, was asking his wife. “ That good 
man is well entitled to his name. There are 
many saints in Paradise who are mere idlers 
beside him, if we are to judge by the good 
he has done.” 

“How is that, Michel?” queried the wife, 
inquisitively. 

“We owe these five years of well-paid work 
to this worthy man, my dear,” explained the 
husband. “ Thanks to this M. Saint-Ramon, 
I have earned sufficiently in the last few 
years to make us all happy and contented, and 
save a great deal besides.” 

“ But, my dear Michel,” remonstrated the 
wife, “ this is not the man who ordered and 
paid for the work. M. Saint-Herem did all 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


221 


that, and it was he who welcomed ns so kindly 
when we came this evening.” 

“ That may be, Juliette. But whenever 
M. Saint Herem came into the place to watch 
us at work, he never failed to say: ‘My 
children, were it not for the riches I have 
inherited, I could not give you this work 
and pay you as you deserve. You must 
therefore reserve all your gratitude for the 
memory of the man who left me so much 
money; it was he who accomplished the hard- 
est task, hoarding his wealth cent by cent, 
depriving himself of every comfort, while I 
have nothing to do but spend this treasure 
liberally. To spend is my duty! Of what 
use are riches, if not to do good! Bemember 
the good old miser then, and bless his avarice ; 
it gives me the pleasure of giving you work 
in the building of a magnificent monument, 
and to you it gives ample salaries, honestly 
earned! ” 

“All the same, Michel, we must not forget 
M. Saint-Herem and give him a share of our 
gratitude.” 

“You are right, Juliette. .He is a noble 


222 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


young man, and lie and his uncle make a 
famous pair.” 

The old mulatto had listened to this con- 
versation with as much interest as astonish- 
ment, and as he wandered from group to 
group, he heard nothing but a chorus of 
praises and blessings in favor of Saint-Ramon, 
the worthy miser, and of his nephew, whose 
nobility of heart and liberality none could laud 
too highly. 

“Is it a dream?” mused the old man. 
“ Who can believe that these praises are ad- 
dressed to the memory of a miser — a memory 
usually cursed and execrated by the living! 
And can it be the heir of this miser, the dis- 
penser of his wealth, who rehabilitates him 
thus? And why are these workmen invited to 
this inauguration? It must be a dream! ” 

But the old mulatto’s amazement was still 
more augmented by another singular contrast 
at this moment. He had suddenly met a group 
of men in evening dress, with many decorations 
in their buttonholes, accompanied by women 
in elegant toilettes. A short distance further 
on was Florestan Saint-Herem, more brilliant 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


223 


and gay than ever in this atmosphere of luxury 
and splendor. He was standing at the extrem- 
ity of the gallery adjoining the reception-room, 
welcoming his guests with the utmost grace 
and courtesy, greeting every one with a cordial 
smile and addressing a few words of gracious 
affability to each woman or young girl, charm- 
ing and placing the most timid at their ease 
by his unaffected sincerity. It was while 
accomplishing the duties of this most admir- 
able hospitality, that he caught his first glimpse 
of the beautiful Countess Zomaloff, as she 
entered the first saloon, accompanied by Prin- 
cess Wileska and the Duke de Eiancourt. 


224 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

Although he had long known the Duke de 
Riancourt, Florestan had never met the prin- 
cess and her niece: but seeing him enter with 
the two ladies, he hastened toward him with 
a welcoming smile. 

“My dear Saint-Herem,” said the duke, 
“allow me to present Princess Wileska and 
the Countess Zomaloff. These ladies hope 
you will think it no indiscretion on their part 
if they visit your mansion and its wonders 
with me, according to the invitation you ex- 
tended yesterday.” 

“ My dear duke, I am only too flattered by 
the honor of this visit,” replied the young 
man, “ and I shall be very happy to show you 
what you are pleased to call the wonders of 
this house.” 

“M. de Riancourt was right to speak of 
wonders, ” rejoined Madame Zomaloff, “ for I 
admit that we are so dazzled by a first glance, 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


225 


that we can not conscientiously admire any one 
thing.” 

“ My dear Saint-Herem,” resumed the duke, 
“ I may as well make a clean breast of it and 
admit that the countess’ visit is not entirely 
disinterested. I have told her of your inten- 
tions concerning this place, and as I am to 
have the pleasure and honor of bestowing my 
name on the countess in a week, you under- 
stand that I cannot decide without her approval 
— since, after all, I stand somewhat in the 
light of — of a husband.” 

“Really, madame,” observed Florestan 
gaily to the countess, “ since the duke antici- 
pates thus on his happiness, do you not think 
it only right that he should bear the whole 
consequences of his revelation ? Therefore, as 
a husband never gives his arm to his wife, you 
may perhaps do me the pleasure of accepting 
mine!” 

By this sally Saint-Herem spared himself 
the obligation of offering his arm to Princess 
Wileska, who, in his eyes, appeared a much 
less agreeable companion than her beautiful 
niece. He therefore led the way with the 
15 


226 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


countess, while M. de Riancourt followed with 
the princess. 

“ I have traveled much,” remarked the 
countess to her companion, “ and I have never 
seen anything that could equal — not in mag- 
nificence, for any millionaire can purchase 
magnificence with his money — hut the mar- 
velous taste which has presided over the con- 
struction of this place. It is a veritable mus6e 
of splendors — allow me to pause and admire 
the superb paintings of this ceiling.” 

“ After the admiration of the work comes 
the reward to the author ; does it not, madame ?” 
returned Florestan with a smile. “ One 
word from your lips, countess, will make 
the artist, who painted this ceiling, the 
happiest and proudest man in the universe,” 
he concluded, with a wave of the hand toward 
one of the most illustrious masters of the mod- 
ern school. 

“ A thousand thanks for procuring me such 
good fortune,” replied the countess, advancing 
toward the artist. 

“ My dear friend,” said Florestan, “ the 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


227 


Countess Zomaloff wishes to express to you all 
her admiration for your work.” 

“Not my admiration only, but my grati- 
tude also,” rejoined the young woman 
graciously. “ The exquisite pleasure given 
by such a master-piece, is a debt contracted 
toward its creator.” 

“However precious and flattering such 
praises may be to me,” returned the artist, 
with a modesty marked by good taste, “ I 
can only accept a share of it. Pray allow me 
to place myself hors de cause , I can then 
express myself more freely. For instance, let 
us take the painting of the concert gallery, 
which you will admire by and by ; they are due 
to our Raphael — M. Ingres. Well, this mon- 
umental work, which in the future will furnish 
art pilgrims as much cause of admiration as 
the most beautiful frescoes of Rome, Pisa, or 
Florence, would perhaps never have existed 
were it not for my excellent friend Saint - 
Herem. Was it not he who gave our French 
Raphael the subject of one of his immortal 
pages? Truly, madame, in these days of vul- 
gar luxuries and brutal magnificences, is it not 


228 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


a phenomenon to meet a M&dicis , as in 
the brightest epoch of Italian republics?” 

“ You are right,” said the countess, enthu- 
siastically, “ and history is just_ in illustrat- 
ing — ” 

“ Forgive the interruption, countess,” 
laughed Florestan, “ but I am as modest as 
my illustrious friend; and for fear your admi- 
ration should be thrown away on an unworthy 
object, I shall point out the veritable Medicis 
— This is he.” 

As he spoke, he designated the portrait 
above the chimney. 

“ What a pensive, austere face! u exclaimed 
the countess, gazing at the painting with a 
feeling of mingled surprise and curiosity. 
Then, as her eyes fell on the inscription below, 
she added with increased astonishment: 
“ Saint-Kamon? — Who is he? ” 

“A saint of my own, madame,” laughed 
Florestan. “He was my uncle; and although 
I am not yet a pope, I have taken the liberty 
to canonize this admirable man in recognition 
of his long martyrdom during life and the 
miracles he accomplished after his death.” 



SAINT RAMON? WHO IS HE?” 


% 







A CARDINAL SIN. 


229 


“His long martyrdom and his miracles!” 
echoed the countess. “You must be jesting, 
monsieur? ” 

“ Not at all, madame. My uncle Ramon 
endured the most atrocious privations during 
his long life, for he was pitilessly and sub- 
limely avaricious — this was his martyrdom. 
At his death, I inherited his enormous wealth 
and conceived this prodigious work of art — 
these are his miracles. I have sanctified his 
memory by gratitude — this is his canoniza- 
tion. As you see, it is a veritable legend taken 
from the Lives of the Saints .” 

Struck by the originality of the young 
man, Madame Zomalotf remained silent for a 
moment, absorbed in deep meditation; while 
the duke, who until then had loitered some 
distance behind, approached them. 

“ My dear Florestan,” he said, “ I have 
been very eager to address you a really odd 
question since my arrival. Who are all these 
people? I recognize a few eminent artists, 
here and there, and a renowned architect, but 
none of the rest. The princess and myself 
have vainly searched the key to the enigma. 


280 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


They are all quiet and reserved, and the young 
girls appear very modest, while a few are 
really pretty; but I am anxious to learn to 
what class of society they belong ! ” 

“ Since M. de Riancourt has the courage 
to ask you so indiscreet a question,” broke in 
the countess, “ I shall admit that I share his 
curiosity.” 

“You have no doubt remarked,” said Flor- 
estan, with a smile, “ that the persons assem- 
bled here this evening do not belong to what 
we call the aristocracy — ” 

“ True, indeed.” 

“Yet, madame, a few moments ago you 
were happy to meet the great artist who 
designed the dome you so much admired, 
were you not?” 

“Indeed, the meeting caused me great 
pleasure, I assure you.” 

“ I believe you also approve me for inviting 
him, as well as many of his colleagues, to the 
inauguration of their united work ? ” 

“ The invitation certainly seemed almost a 
duty on your part, monsieur.” 

“ Well, madame, this duty, inspired by 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


231 


gratitude, I have fulfilled toward all who have 
contributed to the construction of this house, 
from the greatest artist to the most humble 
workman. All are here with their families, to 
enjoy the splendors they have created. Is it 
not just that the skillful and obscure man who 
chiseled the golden cup should moisten his 
lips in it, once, at least, in his life ? ” 

“What!” cried the duke in stupefaction, 
“ these are carpenters, gilders, blacksmiths, 
paper-hangers, ebonists, masons ! — even masons ! 
Why, it is absurd, impossible, incredible!” 

“ My dear duke, do you know the habits of 
the bees?” queried Florestan. 

“Very little,” replied the duke stiffly. 

“ Their habits are most savage and imper- 
tinent, my dear duke. Those insolent crea- 
tures — under the fabulous pretext that they 
have constructed their hives — have the impu- 
dence to inhabit them. And, what is more 
shocking still, they claim their right to the 
sweet honey on which they have so steadily 
and intelligently labored through the season — ” 
“Well, and what do you conclude from 
that?” 


232 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


“ I conclude from it that, through gratitude 
at least, we should allow the poor, laboring 
human bees the innocent pleasure of inhabiting 
for a single day the gilded hive they have 
built for idle drones like us, who enjoy the 
honey gathered by others.” 

The countess, who had drawn a little apart, 
now again placed her hand on Florestan’s arm 
and gently led him a little away from her aunt 
and M. de Kiancourt. 

“ Monsieur de Saint-Herem,” she said with 
emotion, as they walked slowly on, “ your idea 
is not only charming, but of a touching 
delicacy. I am no longer astonished at the air 
of contentment which pervades around us, and 
which I have remarked on the features of your 
guests. The more I think of it, the more gen- 
erous and just it seems to me. After all, as 
you say, this is the work of these laborers, and 
you have honored and dignified labor by this 
f§te. From your point of view, this mansion 
must be far more than an object of art and 
luxury to you, for many precious souvenirs are 
attached to its creation.” 


“You are right, madame.” 


A CAKDINAL SIN. 


233 


“Then — ” 

“ Go on, madame,” 

“I cannot understand why — ” 

“ Why do you hesitate ? Pray, explain your 
thought!” 

There was a moment of silence, then she 
resumed, with some embarrassment: 

u Two days ago, in speaking of the difficulty 
of purchasing a mansion as large and sumptu- 
ous as I desired, M. de Eiancourt recalled the 
fact that you wished to sell this property.” 

“Yes; the duke wrote to me, requesting 
permission to visit the house. I begged him 
to wait till this evening, as he could then see 
the reception-rooms to more advantage — but 
I did not then anticipate the honor of re- 
ceiving you.” 

“Monsieur de Saint-Herem,” she said, still 
hesitatingly, “you have been very indulgent 
to me — will you allow me one more ques- 
tion?” 

“Indulgence in this instance has been so 
sweet and agreeable to me, that I shall thank 
you for the opportunity of exercising it once 
more. What is it?” 


234 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


“ How can you have the courage, or, rather 
— I shall use a very harsh word, I fear — how 
can you have the ingratitude to leave this 
house, which you have created with so much 
love, and to which are attached so many kind, 
generous souvenirs?” 

“Upon my word, madame!” he replied 
carelessly, as if he were saying the most natural 
thing in the world, “ I must sell this mansion 
because I am ruined, completely ruined. This 
is my last day of good fortune and wealth, and 
you must admit, madame, that, thanks to your 
presence here, this day could not have a more 
brilliant or happier evening! ” 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


235 


CHAPTER XIX. 

Florestan de Saint-Herem had uttered the 
words “I am ruined” with so much simplicity 
and carelessness that the countess gazed at 
him dumbfounded for a moment, unable to 
believe what she had heard. 

“ What! ” she finally gasped, “ you are — ” 

“Ruined! completely ruined! ” he repeated. 
“ My uncle left me five millions five years ago; 
I have spent it all, plus eighteen hundred 
thousand francs. The sale of this mansion, 
however, with its furniture, paintings, silver, etc., 
will pay my debts and leave me in possession 
of about a hundred thousand francs. With 
that I shall retire to some smiling country 
place and turn shepherd; a charming contrast, 
especially when I recall my past existence. 
What marvelous, impossible dreams — changed 
into realties for myself, my friends, my mis- 
tresses — my gilded whirlwind carried in my 
train! What renown is mine! how all that was 


236 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


beautiful, elegant, sumptuous, recherckS, was 
swallowed up in my dazzling orbit! Would 
you believe, madame, that my reputation for 
liberality liad spread over Europe? Nay, 
more; a Chandernagor lapidary sent me an 
Indian saber with its handle studded with 
gems, enclosing a pretty, laconic note in these 
words : ‘ This cimeter belonged to Tippo- 

Saeb; it should belong to M. Saint-Herem. 
The weapon is worth twenty-five thousand 
francs, payable at the Rothschild house, in 
Paris. Received twenty-five thousand francs.’ 
Yes; the rarest and most precious objects. of 
art were naively addressed to me from all parts 
of the world; the finest horses walked into my 
stables, the most exquisite wines filled my 
cellars ; the most illustrious chefs fought for 
the privilege of serving me, and the cele- 
brated Dr. Gasterini — do you know him, 
madame? ” 

“ Who has not heard of the most famous 
gourmand the world has ever known?” 

“ Well, madame, that great man proclaimed 
that he had eaten as good a dinner in my 
house as in his own — a compliment he could 




A CARDINAL SIN. 


237 


not pay, even to the table of M. de Talleyrand. 
Ah! madame, what a grand, complete, beauti- 
ful life! And women! Ah! women!” 

“ Monsieur! — ” 

“ Fear not, madame, I shall speak of women 
only as objects of art. And really, can there 
exist a more charming pretext for magnificence ? 
Luxury is but the accessory; a woman is so 
pretty, adorned and surrounded by all the pro- 
ducts of art. Believe me, madame, I have the 
certainty of having ruined myself generously, 
nobly and intelligently. I have neither a 
foolish expense nor a wicked action to reproach 
myself! It is with a mind full of delicious 
souvenirs, a heart full of serenity, that I see 
my fortune take wings!” 

His tone was so sincere, the truth of his 
words and sentiments were so strongly ex- 
pressed on his loyal, handsome face, that the 
countess could not but be convinced of the 
reality of all he said. 

“I must admit, monsieur,” she observed 
softly, “that such philosophy confounds me! 
Now that the hour of renouncing such a life 


238 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


is at hand, not a word of bitterness escapes 
your lips!” 

“Words of bitterness! after so much joy 
and happiness? Ah, madame, that would be 
blasphemy! ” 

“ You leave this enchanted palace without 
regret, without even a sigh, and at the very 
moment when you would have enjoyed it?” 

“What will you, madame? I did not be- 
lieve myself so near the end until a week ago, 
when my rascally steward showed me my ac- 
counts, and I resign myself to the inevitable 
with a good grace. Besides, in leaving this 
palace, created with so much love, I am like 
the poet who has written the last stanza to 
his poem, the artist who has given the last 
touch to his canvas ; there still remains the im- 
perishable glory of having achieved a master- 
piece. This palace is a monument of art and 
magnificence; it shall always be the temple of 
luxury, fetes, pleasures. Ah! how ungrateful 
I should be {o complain of my fate ! It is you, 
madame, who shall be the divinity of this tem- 
ple ; for you shall purchase it, will you not ? 
You would grace it so well ! Do not lose the 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


239 


opportunity; for, as the duke has informed 
you, Lord Wilmot has made me very pressing 
offers. I should be sorry to sell it to him ; he 
is so ugly, and so is his wife, and so are his 
five daughters! What divinities for this 
temple, which seems built expressly for you! 
I beg you, madame, take it for the love of that 
art you appreciate so well. Only, be merci- 
ful to my worthy uncle! It is a magnificent 
painting and, although the portrait and the 
name of Saint Ramon are often repeated in 
sculptured medallions on diverse parts of the 
facade, I would be happy to think that this 
brave uncle — from the height of his marble 
monument — would assist for centuries to the 
pleasures of which he deprived himself during 
life!” 

“ My dear Florestan,” interrupted the duke, 
touching his elbow, “it is all very beautiful 
and wonderful. But eighteen hundred thou- 
sand francs — including furniture and silver, 
of course — is an exorbitant price.” 

“ I am completely disinterested in the mat- 
ter, my dear duke,” replied the young man, 
with a smile; “those eighteen hundred thou- 


240 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


sand francs belong to my creditors, and I shall 
therefore be horribly tenacious on the condi- 
tions. Moreover, as I have already told you, 
Lord Wilmot offers me that sum and urges me 
to accept it.” 

“ That may be, but I am sure you would 
grant me a favor you would refuse Lord Wil- 
mot. Come, Saint-Herem, don’t be inflexible 
— give me a discount, and — ” 

“Monsieur de Saint-Herem,” broke in the 
countess, “ I shall take the house on the con- 
ditions you proposed.” 

“ Heaven be praised! ” exclaimed Florestan, 
extending his hand toward her. “ My good 
star never deserts me, madame; the affair is 
settled.” 

“ But, madame — ” interposed the duke, 
surprised and annoyed at the liberality of his 
future wife, and still hoping to obtain a reduc- 
tion on the price, “this is a matter involving 
considerable money! And at the point we 
have reached, it is impossible that you should 
act without my authority. When we are mar- 
ried— ” 

“Monsieur de Saint-Herem, you have my 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


241 


word,” interrupted tlie countess, with a scorn- 
ful glance at the duke. “ This purchase is a 
personal matter; my steward will negotiate 
with yours to-morrow, at any time you may 
wish.” 

“ Agreed, madam,” assented Florestan ; then 
turning to M. de Biancourt, he added gaily, 
“ I hope you Avill bear me no ill-will, my dear 
duke; you should show yourself to be a real 
grand seigneur , and not bargain like a banker.” 

The orchestra, which had been silent for a 
quarter of an hour, now struck up a new 
cotillion. 

“Pardon me, countess,” resumed the young 
man, “but I must leave you. I am to dance 
this cotillion with the charming daughter of 
one of the best workmen who assisted in the 
building of this mansion — or rather of your 
mansion , madame. And I cannot tell you how 
happy I am to carry away that thought in 
leaving you.” 

He bowed respectfully, and vanished in the 
throng. 

“ My dear Foedora,” said the princess, who 
had remarked the long tSteA-tete of her niece 
16 


242 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


and Saint-Herem with much impatient anxiety, 
“ it is growing late, and we promised Madame 
de Sardaigne to come early.” 

“ Allow me to observe, madame,” put in 
the duke, addressing his flailed in his turn, 
“that you were too hasty in this matter. 
Saint-Herem is forced to sell this house to 
pay his debts, and with a little perseverance 
we could have obtained a reduction of fifty 
thousand crowns at least, especially if you had 
requested it yourself — some things are very 
difficult to refuse a pretty woman!” he con- 
cluded with his most amiable smile. 

“ My dear Foedora, what are you thinking 
about ?” resumed the princess to her niece, 
who was leaning on a gilded mantel covered 
with flowers, absorbed in deep reflection and 
deaf to all remonstrances. “ Foedora,” repeated 
lxer aunt, tugging gently at her sleeve, “ what 
are you dreaming about? ” 

“ I am thinking of M. de Saint-Herem,” 
said the countess, regretfully awakening from 
her reverie. “ All this is so strangely odd — ” 

“I really believe that despair at his ruin 
must have impaired poor Florestan’s mind,” ob- 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


243 


served M. de Biancourt, sententiously, “ One 
must be mad to inaugurate a mansion with 
such a ball; it savors of socialism! ” 

“The duke is right; the thing is absurd 
and ridiculous, ” chimed in the princess. 
“ What an amusing story we shall have to 
relate at the embassy ! — but, my dear Foedora, 
why don’t you answer? — what ails you?” 

“I don’t know,” replied the countess; 
“ what I experience, is most singular.” 

“You want air, my dear countess, ” 
rejoined the duke, with solicitude. “ This 
agglomeration of the masses is stifling; and 
though the apartments are spacious — ” 

“Foedora, are you ill?” broke in the prin- 
cess. 

“No, indeed,” declared the countess, “ the 
emotion I experience is, on the contrary, full 
of sweetness and charm. To tell you the 
truth, my dear duke, I scarcely know how to 
express — ” 

“ In mercy, explain yourself countess,” 
urged the duke, anxiously. “ The strong per- 
fume of these flowers probably affects you 
strangely.” 


244 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


“No, that is not it. I hesitate to speak, 
because you will both think me so strange, so 
eccentric — ” 

“Ah! countess, how could we think you 
otherwise than charming! ” exclaimed the duke 
gallantly. 

“ Foedora, explain yourself,” said her aunt 
impatiently. 

“I am quite willing to do so, but I shall 
surprise you greatly I know,” she said, with a 
confident air; then turning to the duke, she 
added archly: “It seems to me — ” 

“ It seems to you,” repeated he, encour- 
agingly. 

“That — ” 

“ Go on.” 

“ That I am dying to marry M. de Saint- 
Herem,” she concluded, very low. 

“ Madame! ” cried the amazed duke, turning 
crimson. “ Madame ! ” 

“What is it, my dear duke?” inquired the 
princess. “How flushed your face is!” 

“My dear countess,” rejoined the duke, 
with a forced smile, “the jest is rather — ” 

“Pray, give me your arm,” interrupted 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


245 


Foedora carelessly. “ we are already very late. 
But then, it is all your own fault; how is it 
that you, the personification of exactitude , did 
not proclaim the hour of eleven long ago?” 

“Ah! madame, I assure you I am not in a 
laughing humor. Your cruel jest wounded me 
to the heart.” 

“I was not aware that you possessed such 
a vulnerable heart.” 

“Your suspicion is unjust; I would die for 
you!” 

“Really?” 

The duke raised his eyes to heaven and 
heaved a long sigh. 

“If I were to ask anything of you,” she 
retorted, i 1 it would not be so heroic a sacrifice, 
I assure you.” 

The carriage was now announced, and the 
party left the mansion. Almost at the same 
instant the old mulatto was also turning away 
from the place, dazzled and amazed at what he 
had heard and seen, and still dreaming of the 
blessings showered on the name of Saint- 
Ramon by the guests of this peculiar fete. 

“ Half-past eleven,” murmured the old man, 


246 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


as the hour struck from a distant steeple. “ I 
shall be there at midnight — and what shall I 
learn? Ah! what anguish is mine!” 

And with a deep sigh he slowly began the 
ascent of the declivity, stretching along the 
Seine, to the Rue Chaillot. 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


247 


CHAPTER XX. 

The old mulatto wended his way slowly to- 
ward the heights of Chaillot, until he reached 
the church of that poor, populous faubourg. 

To his astonishment, he found the church 
in a blaze of lights. Through the wide open 
door could be seen the sanctuary and altar, 
brilliantly illuminated with tapers and deco- 
rated with flowers, as though in anticipation of 
some imposing ceremony, while grouped in the 
street and surrounding windows, a throng of 
curiosity seekers and belated wayfarers excit- 
edly discussed the approaching event. 

“ They cannot delay much longer,” observed 
one. 

“No, for it is nearly midnight,” rejoined 
another. 

“ Rather a strange hour for a marriage.” 

“Undoubtedly; but with such a dowry one 
can afford peculiar things.” 


248 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


“ Who is to be married at this odd hour?” 
questioned the old man from the last speaker. 

“You must be a stranger in this part of 
the city,” replied the man addressed, “ or you 
would know all about the six marriages, which 
for four years have taken place on the night of 
May 11 and 12.” 

“May 11 and 12,” repeated the old man, 
with a start. “ But why do you call it the six 
marriages? ” 

“ Because each year six young girls, with a 
dowry of ten thousand francs each, are married 
here.” 

“A dowry of ten thousand francs! And 
from whom?” 

“ From a worthy man who died five years 
ago, whose name is as popular and as reveren- 
tially blessed in Chaillot as the Petit manteau 
bleu in Paris.” 

“And who is this worthy man, in whose 
name these young girls are so generously 
dowered?” pursued the old mulatto, with a 
slight tremor in his voice. 

“ He was called P&re Richard,” returned 
the man in a deferential tone. 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


249 


“ And why does this P6re Richard do so 
much good after his death?” continued the 
old man, making an effort to conceal his emo- 
tion. 

“ Simply because this was his idea, and 
because his son religiously carries out his last 
wishes,” explained the man. “ And everybody 
can tell you wdiat a noble man M. Louis 
Richard is. Himself, his wife and child live 
on three or four thousand francs a year, at the 
most, although he must have inherited a large 
fortune from his father to enable him to bestow 
annually a dowry of ten thousand francs each 
on six young girls, not counting the expenses 
of the ‘school’ and the ‘House of Provi- 
dence.’ ” 

“Excuse the curiosity of a stranger; but 
you speak of a school and — ” 

“Yes; the school is directed by Madame 
Mariette, M. Louis Richard’s wife. The 
school was founded for the benefit of twenty- 
five boys and as many girls, who remain there 
until they have attained the age of twelve, 
when they begin their apprenticeship. The 
children are fed, clothed and educated and 


250 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


receive ten sous a day. In this manner, parents 
are induced to send them to school instead of 
forcing them to work in shops.” 

“And the school is under the direction of 
M. Louis Richard’s wife?’ 

“Yes; she claims to have suffered cruelly 
through her own want of education when she 
was only a poor shop girl, and she is par- 
ticularly happy in the thought that she may 
save others the sufferings she endured.” 

“You also spoke of another institution ? ” 

“ That house was founded for the benefit of 
twelve poor, crippled women who cannot work. 
It is under the direction of Madame Lacombe.” 

“ Who is Madame Lacombe?” 

“ Madame Richard’s godmother, a good, 
worthy soul, who lost one hand years ago. She 
is the personification of gentleness and pa- 
tience. She can truly sympathize with the 
crippled women under her charge, for she says 
that her goddaughter and herself often suffered 
the pangs of hunger before the former’s mar- 
riage to M. Richard. But here is the wedding 
procession.” 

The old man turned to the street and saw a 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


251 


gay cortege approaching, led by Louis, with 
Madame Lacombe on his arm, closely followed 
by Mariette leading a pretty boy of four years 
by the hand. 

Madame Lacombe was totally unrecogniza- 
ble. Her face, formerly so haggard and worn, 
was the picture of health, while her counte- 
nance beamed with happiness and benevolence ; 
her silver white hair was smoothly brushed 
back beneath a dainty lace cap, and her silk 
dress was half concealed by a beautiful cash- 
mere shawl — a tasty toilet which gave her a 
most dignified and imposing appearance. 

Louis Richard’s features bore an expres- 
sion of grave and reserved felicity, and he 
seemingly realized the full grandeur of the 
duties he had imposed upon himself; while 
Mariette, who had grown still prettier in this 
beneficial atmosphere, distinguished herself by 
that air of sweet gravity so becoming to young 
mothers. In her legitimate pride, she still 
retained the modest dress of her girlhood and 
wore the coquettish little cap of the shop-girl; 
and Providence, no doubt, rewarded her for 
her modesty, for she looked bewitcliingly fresh 


252 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


and pretty beneath the lace head-gear, with its 
knots of pale blue ribbon, as she smiled 
sweetly on the blond rosy child at her 
side. 

Next came six young girls, in white dresses 
and crowned with orange blossoms, accom- 
panied by their fiancees and relatives, all be- 
longing to the laboring class; then came the 
twenty-four couples united in the four pre- 
vious years, followed by the school children 
and the crippled old women who lu.d found 
refuge in the charitable institutions founded 
with the miser’s money. 

The old mulatto gazed in silent reflection 
at the procession, while his neighbors com- 
mented freely on the memorable event. 

“ They owe all this happiness to old 
Richard,” he heard some one say. 

“And to his son,” added another voice. 

“Undoubtedly; but the son would have 
been powerless without the father’s money.” 

“ Do you know that more than a hundred 
and fifty persons assembled here owe every- 
thing to the good old man ? ” 

“Yes; and in the last four years, six or 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


253 


seven hundred persons must have shared the 
benefits of the inheritance.” 

“ And if M. Louis lives thirty years longer, 
the number will reach five or six thousands 
— thousands saved from misery and crime, 
perhaps.” 

“You forget the children of these hap- 
pily married couples, who will have the ad- 
vantages of education and good breeding 
procured by this generous dowry.” 

“You are right; the good accomplished by 
old Bicliard is beyond calculation. What a 
pity so few know how to spend their money! ” 

“Yes; but there are few such men as 
Bichard and his son. But why are you weep- 
ing?” concluded the speaker, turning suddenly 
toward the old mulatto. 

“ The praises I hear on all sides of —of this 
Bichard and his son, and the sight of so much 
happiness causes me a strange emotion,” ex- 
plained the old man. 

“ If you are interested in the ceremony, 
you may follow the cortege to the House of 
Providence , my good man,” returned his first 


254 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


informant, as he moved toward the entrance 
of the church. 

The old man stood motionless for a few 
moments, then slowly followed the throng into 
the sacred edifice. Throughout the whole 
solemn ceremony, he seemed plunged into a 
sort of ecstasy, as if a sudden revelation had 
opened an immense, dazzling horizon, hitherto 
veiled to his eyes. Burying his face in his 
hands, he sank into a deep meditation from 
which he was aroused by the grave sonorous 
voice of the officiating priest addressing the 
newly-married couples. 

“ And now that your union is consecrated 
by God,” he was saying, “ continue the hon- 
est, laborious life wdiicli has been repaid by the 
happiness you now enjoy; never forget that you 
owe this just remuneratiQn of your courage 
in adversity to a man gifted with the most 
tender and generous affection for his brothers ; 
for, faithful to his duties as a Christian, he 
does not look upon himself as the master, but 
as the dispenser of his riches. In giving M. 
Richard a son so worthy of him, the Lord has 


A CARDINAL SIN, 


255 


recompensed that great man, and his memory 
shall live amongst men. Your gratitude will 
create his immortality; his name shall be 
blessed by you, by your children and your 
children’s children; the venerated name of M. 
Richard shall be engraved on your hearts as a 
souvenir of rare virtue! ” 

A murmur of approbation greeted these 
words, drowning the stifled sobs of the old 
mulatto whose face was still buried in his 
hands. 

The ceremony was now over, and the noise 
and bustle of the dispersing throng recalled 
him to himself. Rising from his knees, he 
hurried to the door, where he stood, trembling 
in every limb, waiting for the passage of the 
leading group in the procession. 

As Louis Richard crossed the threshold, 
the old man's hand came in contact with his 
own, causing him to turn in that direction. 
Seeing the bowed head and shabby clothes of 
the stranger, the young man slipped a gold 
coin between his fingers, saying kindly: 
“ Take it, and pray for Pbre Richard” 


256 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


The old man eagerly grasped the coin, and 
raising it to his lips, burst into tears. Then 
leaning once more on his cane, he slowly fol- 
lowed the gay party. 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


257 


CHAPTER XXI. 

The House of Providence was built on the 
highest point of Chaillot, in a healthful, beau- 
tiful spot, and was surrounded by a large, 
shady garden which served as pleasure grounds 
to its inmates. 

The night was calm and serene, and the 
atmosphere was impregnated with the sweet 
fragrance of a profusion of spring blossoms, 
while numerous gas-jets illuminated the wide 
avenue that led to the entrance of the princi- 
pal building. 

The stranger, who still followed the throng, 
soon found himself in the midst of a semi- 
circle silently grouped around a high porch, 
listening to the following words from a voice 
that thrilled him with strange emotion: 

“ My friends,” Louis was saying, “ five 
years ago to-night, I lost the best of fathers in 
the frightful accident of the Versailles road. 
Being possessed of considerable wealth, my 
17 


258 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


father might have lived in comfort and idle- 
ness ; but he deprived himself of all luxury, 
working for his daily bread, slowly accumulat- 
ing riches by his parsimony and augmenting 
them year by year by his abnegation. Then 
came his premature death, and I mourned over 
the loss of the greatest friend of humanity ; for, 
according to his last wishes, I have consecrated 
his wealth to the accomplishment of three great 
and noble duties: 

“ Toward children. 

“ Toward young girls. 

“ Toward women whom age and infirmities 
render incapable of work. 

“ To poor children, my father has provided 
elementary instructions; to young girl6, so 
often exposed to the seductions of vice, he has 
assured the pure and sweet joys of family life, 
so often denied to children of poverty ; to aged 
or infirm women, he has given rest and com- 
fort for the remainder of their days. 

“ These last wishes I have faithfully car- 
ried out to the limits of the means he has left 
me. The good thus done may be small in com- 
parison to the innumerable miseries of human- 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


259 


ity ; but the man who does what he can, shares 
his bread with his famished brother and does 
his duty. This is a duty imposed on all alike, 
and all should strive to reach that ideal. My 
father conceived that generous thought — I 
am but the agent, the echo. The accomplish- 
ment of this glorious duty would fill my life 
with boundless felicity, were it not that I must 
weep over the death of a beloved and deeply 
regretted father ” 

As the speaker uttered the last words, a 
wild commotion spread through the assemblage ; 
overcome by his emotion, the old mulatto 
had fallen unconscious in the arms of his 
neighbors. On hearing the cause of the sud- 
den agitation, Louis ordered that the stranger 
be carried to his own apartments on the ground 
floor of the building, where he could receive 
prompt and careful attention; insisting at the 
same time that the wedding festivities should 
go on uninterrupted, and that Mariette and 
Madame Lacombe should preside in his place 
at the supper table in the garden. 

In the meantime, the old man had been 
transported into Louis’ study, which was 


260 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


furnished with the few odd pieces of furniture 
carried away from the old home so long 
shared in common between the father and 
son. When the young man entered, the 
stranger was still unconscious, his white hair 
falling in disorder over his brow and his un- 
kempt beard almost totally concealing his 
features. 

Frightened at his immobility, Louis des- 
patched the attendant for a bottle of spirits ; 
then bending over him he caught the emaci- 
ated hand to feel the pulse. As he peered 
anxiously into the withered face, the stranger 
turned slightly and uttered a few unintelligible 
words. 

The sound of the voice struck him strangely. 
Bending lower he tried to distinguish the 
features of the patient; but the semi-obscurity 
of the room and the disordered hair and beard 
rendered his examination fruitless. 

Then the mulatto’s eyes opened slowly; 
raising his head languidly, his gaze wandered 
over the room and rested on the familiar 
objects. 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


261 


“Where am I?” lie murmured. “Is it a 
dream ? My God ! my God ! ” 

This time the voice was more distinct and 
Louis trembled visibly; then a bitter smile 
came to his lips and he shook his head 
sadly. 

“Alas!” he said, in a low tone, “what illu- 
sions sorrow will cause.” Then turning to the 
patient, he added kindly: “Do you feel 
stronger now?” 

At these words, the stranger sat bolt up- 
right, and catching Louis’ hand kissed it 
rapturously. 

“ There, don’t agitate yourself,” resumed 
the young man. “ I have done nothing to win 
your gratitude. Some day I may be able to 
do more. But tell me how you feel. Was it 
fatigue or weakness that caused your svfoon ? ” 

The old man still remained silent, his head 
bowed down and pressing Louis’ hand con- 
vulsively to his breast. 

A singular emotion filled the young man’s 
heart, and the tears came into his eyes as he 
continued : 

“Listen to me, father.” 


262 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


“ Oli ! again, again !” murmured Hie stranger, 
in a voice choked with emotion. 

“ Well, father — ” 

“Louis!” cried the old man, unable to 
control himself longer. 

This single word, uttered with all the 
strength of his soul, was a revelation. 

The young man started back as though a 
thunderbolt had fallen at his feet, and stood 
for a moment pale and trembling, his gaze 
fixed on the haggard features before him. The 
commotion was too violent, the moral shock 
too deep, to allow him to realize the astound- 
ing truth at once. It seemed like the sudden 
transition of deep night to the; bright sun- 
shine, which dazzles and renders us momen- 
tarily blind. 

Then the reality suddenly burst on his 
dazed senses; throwing himself on his knees 
beside the couch, he brushed back the dis- 
heveled white hair from the stranger’s face, 
and scanned the features of his father, dis- 
guised under a fictitious color. There was no 
longer any doubt; he threw his arms about 
the old man’s neck, murmuring in a sort of filial 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


263 


delirium: “You! — you, my father — Heaven 
be praised! ” 

* * * * * * * 

We shall not attempt to describe this first 
explosion of joy and delirious happiness. 
Who can paint those affectionate embraces, 
those tender words that come from the heart 
and throw the soul into an ecstacy of bliss ? 
When the first emotion had finally subsided, 
however, Louis eagerly questioned his father 
concerning those long years of separation. 

“ My dear child,” began the father, “ I 
slept for five years and awakened for the first 
time two days ago. I was in the wrecked car 
with Ramon and his daughter; but through 
some inexplicable chance my life was spared, 
though my leg was fractured and the fright 
drove me mad.” 

“You, my father?” 

“Yes, I completely lost my reason.” 

“ Heavens ! how terrible ! ” 

“A kind surgeon carried me to a place of 
safety and afterward conveyed me to the Ver- 
sailles asylum. I was perfectly harmless and 
spoke only of my lost treasures. For four years 


264 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


I remained in tlie same condition ; then I gradu- 
ally regained my reason, and two days since was 
pronounced cured. I cannot express what I 
experienced as memory came back to me, after 
these five years of slumber; but I blush to 
admit that my first thought was that of the 
miser. What had become of my wealth ? what 
use had it been put to? The moment the 
doors of my prison opened before me, I flew to 
my notary’s office. You can imagine his stu- 
pefaction when he recognized me. He then 
informed me that your first thought had been 
to act as trustee only to my riches, and to use 
merely enough for your existence until you 
reached the age of tliirty-fiye. Then came 
your severe illness six months later, and fear- 
ing you might die without accomplishing your 
sacred task, you conceived other projects. 

‘ What were these projects?’ I asked. ‘Wait 
until midnight to-morrow,’ the notary replied, 
‘ and go to the church at Chaillot. There you 
will learn all, and thank heaven to have given 
you such a son.’ I had the patience to wait, 
my dear son, hoping to approach you without 
being recognized. Oh! my noble, beloved 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


265 


son! if you knew what I have heard and seen! 
Thanks to your grandeur of soul and the pious 
ruse of your filial affection, I found my name 
blessed and venerated! If you knew what 
sudden revolution took place in me! While 
blessings were showered on my memory, it 
seemed to me that my soul had burst its 
terrestrial chains and was hovering above the 
world, just as the souls of good men must 
hover above us, while listening to the expres- 
sions of love and gratitude from those whom 
they have benefitted. But, alas! this illusion 
was of short duration — I was not deserving 
of these praises.” 

“You are mistaken, father,” protested Louis. 
“Without your persevering economy I could 
never have accomplished anything. You placed 
the lever in my hand. My only merit has 
been to make good use of the immense force 
you concentrated at the price of innumerable 
sacrifices and privations. The horrible misery 
and the ignorance through which my beloved 
wife had suffered, the dangers to which they had 
exposed her, the cruel infirmity of her guar- 
dian, all these bitter things were a lesson to 


266 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


me; Mariette, her godmother and myself have 
tried, as far as it lay in our power, to spare 
others what we had suffered — ” 

At this moment the door was burst suddenly 
open and Florestan de Saint-Herem dashed 
breathless into the room. 

“Bejoice, oh! rejoice!” he cried, throwing 
himself into his friend’s arms. “ Saint-Bamon 
has performed the most wonderful of miracles ! ” 
“What do you mean?” gasped the aston- 
ished Louis. 

“ Two hours ago I was completely ruined, 
and now I am richer than I ever was or ever 
will be. Only fancy, Louis, I am the possessor 
of gold mines, silvefmines, diamonds of untold 
value, of fabulous riches — millions and mill- 
ions, in fact! Oh! Saint-Bamon, how just I 
was to sanctify your name, to canonize you, 
for you are not ungrateful ! ” 

“In mercy, explain yourself, Florestan!” 

“ One hour ago, as the ball was drawing to 
a close, a servant informed me that a lady had 
just arrived in a fiacre and requested to see me 
at once. Hastening to my apartments, I was 
amazed to find the Countess Zomaloff, a young 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


267 


and beautiful widow, quietly waiting for me. 
This charming woman was to have married the 
Duke de Riancourt within a week and had 
purchased my house during the evening. My 
surprise was so great that for a moment I was 
unable to utter a word. 

“ ‘ Monsieur de Saint-Herem,’ she said, with- 
out a tremor of agitation in her voice, 1 you 
must forgive me for disturbing you, but I shall 
retain you a few moments only — I am a widow 
and twenty-eight years of age ; I had promised 
to marry the duke, and would probably have 
been foolish enough to keep my word if I had 
not met you. You have a generous heart and 
a lofty soul ; the fete you have given this even- 
ing proves it; I admire your intellect and char- 
acter, and your person pleases me. As for me, 
the step I am taking now gives you the oppor- 
tunity of judging my worth — You may think 
my actions strange, improper, or eccentric — 
you are at liberty to appreciate me as you wish. 
If your judgment is favorable, however, I shall 
be proud and happy to become Madame de 
Saint-Herem and inhabit the Saint-Ramon 
mansion with you. My wealth is fabulous, 


268 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


and you may dispose of it as you wish, for I 
confide my future blindly into your hands. I 
shall therefore await your decision anxiously. 
Good-night, Monsieur de Saint-Herem.’ 

“ With these words the fairy vanished, my 
dear Louis, leaving me in such a state of daz- 
zling happiness that I feared I would lose my 
reason.” 

“ My dear Florestan,” said his friend 
gravely, “ the countess’ frankness and blind 
confidence in you impose a great duty on you.” 

“I understand, my friend,” rejoined Saint- 
Herem seriously. “ I had a right to squander 
my own fortune; but to ruin a woman who 
trusts her whole future into my hands would 
be a piece of unparalleled infamy! ” 

* * * * * * * 

One month later, Louis Richard, with his 
father and Mariette, assisted at the nuptial 
benediction of Florestan de Saint-Herem and 
Madame Zomaloff. 

Notwithstanding his father’s resurrection, 
Louis still continues to dispense charity around 
him, greatly aided in the benevolent task by 
old Richard himself, who now exhibits as much 


A CARDINAL SIN. 


269 


zeal in relieving poverty and distress, as he 
formerly did in hoarding up his treasure and 
ministering to his one great passion or beset- 
ting sin — avarice. 

May the twelfth is now doubly celebrated. 
A magnificent fete is given yearly by M. and 
Madame de Saint-Herem in honor of their first 
meeting, for the marriage of convenance has 
turned out to be one of love. But at midnight, 
they invariably leave the brilliantly illu- 
minated Saint-Bamon mansion and accompany 
Louis and Mariette to their home, where they 
share the wedding supper of the six happy 
couples united on that day. 

END. 





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